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LOOKING FORWARD. 



[Front!s/>iece.\ 



LOOKING FORWARD; 



OR, 



R.KUNION AND RKCOGNITION 



Original Poems for the Bereaved. 



6y / 
CHAS. WALKER RAY, D.D. 



' There is no death ! What seems so is transition. 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal we call Death." — Longfellow. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
1885. 







\ 






Copyrighl, 1884, by J. B. Lippincott & Co. 



INSCRIPTION. 

TO THE xMEMORY OF MY SAINTED 

MOTHER, 

WHOSE TENDER LOVE WAS NEVER DOUBTED; WHOSE PATIENCE CAN NEVER BE 

FORGOTTEN ; WHOSE SYMPATHIES AND 

FERVENT PRAYERS ARE A CEASELESS BENEDICTION ; AND WHO OFTEN 

WEPT OVER LITTLE GRAVES, 

THIS VOLUME IS 

GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 

CHAS. WALKER RAY. 



fU JMMJ - 




INTRODUCTION. 



A PROFOUND sympathy for those who Hke himself have 
been bereaved, has prompted the author from time to time to 
attempt something for their consolation. In the bitter expe- 
riences of life there is such close kinship that whatever may 
be said for the comfort of one, with almost equal propriety 
may be said for the comfort of thousands. Whatever may be 
adapted to assuage individual griefs, is likely to prove adapted 
to alleviate the sorrows of many. 

Part of the book was written hastily and at the solici- 
tation of personal friends, and, aside "from the immediate end 
which it was designed to subserve, may seem to possess little 
value. But there are vacant chairs and aching hearts in too 
many homes for it to find no response of welcome. 

When the fields are struggling to cast off the winding- 
sheet of winter, when little buds are sobbing for the warmth 
of spring, and forests are sighing for the robes which shall 
relieve them of the look of desolation, the smallest blos- 
soms on the hillside attract attention, and thrill us with 
their prophetic voices. The bee will drink delicious sweets 
from the flowers which we carelessly trample in the dust. 



5 INTRODUCTION. 

So, simple words may sometimes soothe a breaking heart and 
prove the source of richest blessing. For the merest crumbs 
of comfort famishing souls will thank God. 

Did you ever look upon a child so fair and faultlessly 
beautiful that in form and feature it seemed unsurpassed by 
your highest ideal of angelic loveliness ? 

Have you witnessed its winning smiles and listened to its 
innocent prattle day by day, listened to the loving voice which, 
for its musical cadence and wondrous sweetness, almost gave 
you pain from over-delight ? 

Have you suffered your affections to wrap themselves about 
that lovely being till its removal from your presence was like 
taking the sun from the skies, making all the earth black and 
desolate ? 

Have you with aching heart watched over that child by 
day and by night, while the color faded from its rosy lips and 
the cheeks grew pale, and the little hands grew white and 
strangely transparent? Have you seen its smile fade slowly 
away in sadness, while its eyes, clothed with unusual lustre, in 
every glance appealed for sympathy, and for aid which you 
had no power to afford ? 

Have you watched the return of the fever, moistened the 
parched lips, and endeavored to soothe the ravings of delirium ? 
Have you heard the sigh of weariness and the moan of pain, 
and felt for the trembling pulse, and at last wiped the death- 
damp from the cold brow ? And was that child your own ? 

Were all your earthly hopes and fondest anticipations sus- 
pended upon its life and crushed by its death ? And have you 
turned away to weep, heart-broken, and with every tendril of 
the soul torn and bleeding? 



INTRODUCTION. « 

Have you stood by the casket and looked upon the beau- 
tiful form upon which you have so often gazed with admiration 
and tenderest love, while something seemed to whisper, The 
little dimpled hands will be lifted in loving caress no more. 
The eyes which sparkled with delight at your coming, and 
which looked out for you at the window; the eyes which were 
so often brimming over with grief at the door, when duty called 
you from home, are closed forever. The lips which quivered 
with sympathy and joyous excitement will part with merry 
shout and welcoming smile no more. The birdlike voice, so 
soft and thrillingly sweet, will be heard in this life never again. 

Have, you, with parting kiss, closed the casket upon all 
that remained to you of the lovely child? Have you poured 
out bitter tears at the grave, and turned away to your desolate 
home, feeling that every hope had fled, and that henceforth life 
must be a weariness ? Has the silence of hall, parlor, and 
nursery seemed painfully oppressive ? Have you been startled 
by the rattle of the window-sash or by the creak and jar of the 
blind upon its hinges ? Have you been chilled by commingled 
hope and fear, while half-dreaming your pillow has been touched 
and your cheek has been fanned by the wings of some drowsy 
insect ? Have you been awakened by the moaning of the 
wintry blast, when for the moment it seemed like the echoes 
of a voice forever hushed in death ? Have you sobbed over 
the empty crib and over the emptiness of your home ? You 

HAVE-NOT BEEN ALONE IN YOUR GRIEF AND WOE. Others have 

shed no less bitter tears. Other hearts have throbbed with a 
love as sincere and tender, and with a sorrow not less profound. 
Other souls have pined in their loneliness and yearned for 
sympathy as truly as your own. This very hour they may be 



8 IN TR OD UCTION. 

longing for some sign of disinterested affection. The more you 

do for them, the richer the sources of consolation that will be 

opened to you. He who does most to relieve other hearts of 

their burdens is doing most to remove his own. 

Should my readers realize but a meagre proportion of what 

is hoped for by generous friends, to whose solicitations I have 

yielded in giving the following pages to the public, none can 

find richer compensation for toil, and none can be more grateful 

than the 

AUTHOR. 



V.r's^'-.r^^^EF^EEriririEH.E^^'S^ '^ ^^ 




TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Introduction . 

Looking Forward 

The Picture on the Wall 

The Unfinished Motto . 

Harold 

Luella's Prayer . 

Beyond the Shadows 

The Cloudless Land 

Whom will you Meet? 

The Loved Ones Safe . 

Not Lost 

Thy Will be Done 

Calmly Sleeping 

At the Grave 

The Rebellious Prayer 

Going with the Tide 

Dreams of Glory-Land 

Our Eden-Land 

Going Home To-day . 

To my Wife 

What is Death? 

He Only Sleeps . 

Watching by the Gate 

Exchanges . 

No Tears in Heaven 





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24 


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29 


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• 30 


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32 


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• 34 


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35 


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. 38 


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39 


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. 41 


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43 


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48 


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• 49 


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52 


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• 55 


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69 


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• 72 


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75 




■ 77 



lO 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Could You Know 

The Other Side 

Weep Not .... 

Here and There 

On the Morrow . 

Another Gone 

Gone to the Better Land 

Eva's Lament . . . . 

To Die was Gain 

Gone wtth Angels 

He Lives and Loves 

Arrived at Home 

No Night in Heaven 

Death Defeated 

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 

Our Darling .... 

Say Not 'tis Sin to Weep 

Standing in the Door-way . 

A Gift for the King 

There is no Death . 

Your Only One . 

The Transplanted Flower . 

Press On . 

Sad Mementos 

What He Might Have Been . 

What I Shall See . 

Weeping and Waiting 

The Burial .... 

In Memoriam — Henry C. Fish, D.D. 

Recognition in Heaven 

The Funeral 



PAGE 
80 
81 

83 
85 
87 

88 
90 
92 

94 
96 

97 
99 

lOI 

104 
106 
107 
no 

112 

114 

117 

120 
121 
124 
127 
130 
132 

143 
146 
166 



Ir^r^r-'r^ T^r^ r^r-'r^i-'H F^T^^' 




LOOKING FORWARD; 



OR, 



REUNION AND RECOGNITION. 



LOOKING FORWARD. 



" For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder 
and maker is God." — Heb. xi. lo. 



Looking forward through the years, 
To the end of toils and tears ; 
Not to death's dark sullen stream, 
But to heaven's bright morning beam ; 
Not for slumber in the tomb, 
But for life beyond its gloom, 
Where nor heel nor wing of time 
Marks the heiehts of bliss sublime. 



^fc> 



Looking forward to that land, 
Where by fragrant breezes fanned, 
Underneath celestial shades, 
Where no blossom ever fades. 
We shall walk with friends beloved, 
Whose devotion we have proved. 
Clothed in robes of spodess white 
By the fountains of delight. 



13 



14 



LOOKING FORWARD. 

Lookine forward to that shore 
Where no tempest's frightful roar 
On the Hstening ear shall break, 
Haunting- o-hosts of ill to wake ; 
Where no waves of woe shall roll 
O'er the happy, ransomed soul 
That upon the heavenly strand 
Shall with trembling rapture stand. 

Lookine forward ! And there wait 
By the glistening pearly gate, 
Kindred fondly loved below, 
Soon to their embrace we'll go ! 
When we walk the gold-paved street, 
Sound of harps and voices sweet 
In orlad sonofs and anthems will 
Every heart with transport fill. 

Lookinof forward ! Soon we'll be 
From all cares and conflicts free 
In the palaces which rise 
Midst the streets of Paradise, 
Whose enrapturing splendors prove 
Wondrous wisdom, power, and love ; 
Whose foundations strong are sure 
Through all aees to endure. 




" Looking forward through the years." 



Page 13. 



LOOKING FORWARD. 

Lookinof forward to our home, 
To those mansions near the throne, 
Whose adornings all combine 
To proclaim the wealth divine. 
There enchantino- halo falls 
Over towers and city walls, 
And reflected glories bright 
Drive afar the shades of nig-ht. 

Looking forward to our rest, 
To sweet converse with the blest, 
To the end of mortal strife, 
To the crystal streams of life ; 
To the realms of endless peace. 
Where hosannas never cease ; 
Loud the praise of Christ our king 
We in triumph there shall sing. 



15 




THE PICTURE ON THE WALL. 

The picture that hangs on the wall, 

With tresses of bright golden hair, 
Which spread a rich halo o'er all, 

As lilies perfume all the air, 
A stranger may pass idly by ; 

Or meet with a eaze stern and cold 
That gentle and melting blue eye. 

Which follows me now as of old. 

The picture that hangs on the wall, 

With forehead so broad and so high. 
Seems longing to answer my call, 

And wishing to beckon me nio-h ; 
Her face you will doubtless compare 

With many you meet on the street, 
To you it may seem no more fair, 

To me it is wondrously sweet. 

l6 



THE PICTURE ON THE WALL. 17 



The picture that hangs on the wall, — 

Remove it ? Nay, not till I die ; 
Before it my tears oft may fall, 

Before it in grief I may lie; 
Each glance at her image may thrill, 

The sound of her name give me pain ; 
Reproach for each sigh if you will, 

It still on the wall must remain. 

The picture that hangs on the wall 

Will start at no mournful death-knell ; 
Whate'er may the living befall, 

It weeps not, nor woe has to tell. 
It orrieves not o'er chano-es of time, 

But whispers with tenderest love 
Of ereetinofs which soon shall be mine, 

Of joys that await me above. 

The picture that hangs on the wall, 

My thoughts it far backward doth fling ; 
But free from this sad earthly thrall. 

My tongue soon with rapture shall sing. 
Like a pendulum, back through the years 

My poor throbbing heart seems to swing. 
But God, through my sorrow and tears. 

Will me to His glory soon bring. 



THE UNFINISHED MOTTO. 



Her mother met me at the door. Not a word was spoken. My 
inquiring gaze was answered by broken sobs. On entering the parlor, 
there stood upon Lizzie's piano that beautiful motto which she had 
been so anxious to finish. In a corner of its simple, rustic frame was 
a mourning card with the words, " Her last work on earth." 

The motto was complete, except the last word, the first letter of 
which she had but just begun when the needle dropped from her 
trembling fingers, leaving the soft thread drooping down over the pen- 
cilled, shadowy outline. She passed away with the unfinished "Ages" 
yet before her. 



" Rock of Ages !" Young and fair, 
Resting in the old arm-chair, 
Her white finofers tremblino- hold 
Fleecy threads of brown and gold. 



■ " Rock of Ages !" Day by day 
Swiftly fades her life away, 
While the motto sweet she tries 
To complete before she dies. 

i8 



THE UNFINISHED MOTTO. 

" Rock of Ages !" Broad and high, 
Pointing upward to the sky, 
Stands the hallowed Cross now done, 
"Ages," — only yet to come! 

"Rock of Ages!" She would fain 
Toil in weariness and pain, 
But her eyes are growing dim ; 
Still she chants the precious hymn, — 



" Rock of Ages, cleft for me. 
Let me hide myself in Thee." 
Rock and Cross, they both are done, 
Ages she has just begun. 

" Rock of Ages !" Drooping down. 
As though her last work to crown, 
Life's prophetic thread we view. 
Which shall run the Ages through. 



"Rock of Ages!" Motto meet. 
Pledge of faith, though incomplete ; 
"Ages" outlined, mourning stands, 
Waitingf touch of her skilled hands. 



19 



20 THE UNFINISHED MOTTO. 

"Rock of Ages!" This to me 
Symbol of her Hfe shall be ; 
Rock and Cross her trust record, 
Pledofe of " Ages" with the Lord. 



" Rock of Ages !" Emblem blest 
Of her hiding-place and rest. 
When the storms around her beat, 
Here she found a safe retreat. 



" Rock of Ages !" How He spread 
Brightness round her dying bed. 
While we watched her short'ning breath 
And the eatherinof shades of death ! 



"Rock of Ages!" Here it stands, 
Last work wrought by busy hands; 
Monument of trust sublime 
Left upon the shore of time. 



"Rock of Ages!" Hearts that ache 
While mad billows round them break, 
Souls that long in grief have pined 
Here may shelter ever find. 



HAROLD. 21 

" Rock of Ages !" O may we 
All be found at last in Thee, 
And with those who rest above 
Share Thy presence and Thy love ! 



HAROLD. 

Harold ! O what memories, — 

v'Tis called a pretty name, — 
What tender recollections, 

What thoughts of grief and pain : 
How fondly we watched o'er him, 

And sickness tried to stay, 
And yet the little dimpled hands 

Grew thin and white each day. 

His speaking eyes, so clear and bright, 

And brimmine o'er with orlee, 
Grew strangely brighter day by day, 

And often turned to me 
With eager, tender pleading, 

For help that none could give ; 
O how we wept and hourly prayed 

The lovely child might live. 



22 HAROLD. 

Though vain, we struggled hard with death 

Until the last sad hour, 
And vainly tried to loose his grasp, 

Yet felt the more his power ; 
With unavailing sighs and tears, 

With breaking hearts, we cried, 
" O spare our darling Harold ! spare " 

Until at last he died. 



Then bending low, with heavy sobs. 

Over the little form. 
We tried to whisper, " Father, God, 

Thy will. Thy will be done." 
In accents sweet came answer back : 

" From grief and tears refrain ; 
Distrust me not, your present loss 

Is his eternal gain." 

His kind old nurse, true, loving soul. 

Dark as a cloud at even, — 
None ever had a better heart. 

Nor worthier was of heaven, — 
Drew near with trembling and with tears, 

And yet she faintly smiled 
And murmured, as she kissed his cheek, 

"The dear, dear, blessed child." 



HAROLD. 



23 



We closed . his eyes, brushed back his hair, 

And dressed him for the tomb ; 
So white and cold, like marble fair. 

Then from our darkened home 
Bore him away ; away to rest 

In his cold, narrow bed, 
Till Christ shall raise his precious dust 

With loved and kindred dead. 

His cradle and his clothing 

We early gave away, 
Reserving just the little toys 

With which he loved to play ; 
The little rubber rattle-box. 

His shoes, a tiny pair, 
A little, sweet doll-baby. 

With dark and glossy hair ; 

* 

These with our precious memories 

Laid carefully away, 
We visit at the twilight hour. 

And kneeling by them pray ; 
While faith with stronger pinions 

Seems to bear us nearer home. 
And within the shining portals 

Harold beckons us to come. 



24 



LUELLAS PRAYER. 

Since then another bright-eyed boy 

Has blessed us with his love, 
Whose winning ways remind us oft 

Of him who is above ; 
And when the evening shadows fall 

I fold him to my breast, 
And kiss his sweet and rosy lips 

For him who is at rest. 



LUELLA'S PRAYER. 

Yes, she was dying! The unclouded sun, 
Now veiled in sorrow by the distant haze, 
Had all day long with flush of golden light 
The flowery fields and fairy landscape clothed. 
And crowned the mountain crest with halo bright, 
Like that which kindled round the brow divine. 
On which disciples looked, on Tabor's height ; 
But now was sinking to his nightly rest 
Behind the high and far-off" western hills ; 
And slowly sinking, as in grief to part 
With one so young and fair, who nevermore 
Would crave his company. Slowly sinking, 



LU ELLA'S PRAYER. 



25 



As though he fain would stay to gently robe 
The dying child in fresh immortal dress, 
Else to prolong the lovely, waning life. 

The early summer flowers were all in bloom. 
The air was laden with their rich perfume ; 
And through the open windows in her room 
In eentle breezes fanned her wasted cheeks. 

In accents sweet her trembling lips had told 
Her constant longing, that the Lord would come. 
Or send attendant angels from the skies, 
To bear her safe and quickly to her home. 
Where pain and parting pangs are never known. 
Then with a sigh, both tremulous and sweet. 
She closed her eyes and turned away her head. 
And quivered in her weakness, like a leaf 
When shaken by the piercing wintry wind. 

Her time was short. Her little hands, so thin 
And marble white, were cold and folded now ! 
Again she sighed ; we thought the struggle o'er. 
"Three years to-day!" she whispered, tenderly, 
And well we knew the meaning of her words ; 
'Twas just three years since she was left alone, 
An orphan, — of kindred there were none ! 



26 LUELLAS PRAYER. 

"Three years to-day!" She faintly, sweetly smiled, 
As though she felt her mother's last fond kiss 
Still lingering, fresh and warm, upon her lips. 

A moment more, and then the earnest soul 
Shook her whole feeble frame, while she essayed 
To gather up her failing strength to pray. 
She made no plea to be released from pain ; 
In peace, and in the shadow of the cross, 
Assured of love divine, she made no prayer 
For pardon in that last and parting hour ; 
But prayed so fervently, with sighs and tears, 
That God would keep from every mortal ill 
Her friends beloved, whom she must leave behind. 
Then, with a low, prolonged, and broken sob. 
She cried, " Let mother meet me by the gates. 
And let me see my own and mother's God, 
And let Him smile upon, and welcome me !" 

The words still hung upon her parted lips. 
When the loose curtain, lifted by the wind, 
Swept back and, caught by rustic bracket there 
Upon the wall, let in a softened flood 
Of sunset glories on her upturned face. 
Which bathed with radiance that seemed divine, 
And streaming from the very gates of heaven. 



BEYOND THE SHADOWS. 37 

Her brow was quickly lifted in surprise, 
A wondrous light was in her dark-brown eyes, 
As though she saw a pathway to the skies ! 
With grateful, happy look, which overspread 
Her wasted features, as she raised her head, 
She cried, as though she saw her by her bed, 
"Oh, mother! mother!" With an impulse wild. 
Her hands flew quickly up ; again she smiled ; 
She had her prayer ! The mother had her child ! 



BEYOND THE SHADOWS. 

Far beyond these gloomy shadows 

Is a country fair and bright. 
Where no storm-cloud ever gathers, 

And no tears bedim the sieht. 
There is heard no wail of sorrow. 

Neither sigh of grief nor moan ; 
There are no farewells, no partings. 

Death is neither feared nor known. 



2g BEYOND THE SHADOWS. 

To that land of changeless glory, 

With its balmy, cloudless skies, 
We are oft with earnest lon^ine 

Lifting up our weary eyes. 
Thither ransomed spirits journey, 

There with joy they meet again, 
There they eagerly await us 

From these shades of toil and pain. 

Yes, we there shall see our kindred, 

Once removed from our embrace ; 
We shall see them, we shall know them, 

We shall meet them face to face. 
We shall find a blissful welcome, 

And be folded to each heart, 
O the rapture of the greeting 

When we meet no more to part ! 





' N9 gathering tempest palls the sky." 



Page 29. 



THE CLOUDLESS LAND. 

O CLOUDLESS land beyond life's sea, 

Where ransomed spirits dwell, 
And endless refuge find in thee, 

Who can thy joys foretell ? 
No wintry winds, no chilling gloom. 

Sweep thy celestial hills ; 
There sweetest flowers, in ceaseless bloom, 

Each raptured vision fills ! 

No pilgrim weeps in shadowed vales, 

By storm-clouds overcast. 
Nor tremblingly with tears bewails 

The threat'ning angry blast ; 
No gathering tempest palls the sky, 

No startling thunders roll. 

No lightning's glare e'er dims the eye. 

Or mocks the ransomed soul. 

29 



THE LOVED ONES SAFE. 

Safe ! across the threatening flood, 
Safe forever with their God ! 

Safe where storms shall never come, 
Safe where flowers forever bloom. 



Safe from envy, toil, and strife. 
Safe from death in endless life. 



Safe, though called by death away. 
Safe in realms of endless day. 



Safe from every grief and care, 
Safe from every fatal snare. 

Safe from every earthly woe, 
Safe where ceaseless pleasures flow, 
32 



THE LOVED ONES SAFE. 

Safe where wanderings none deplore, 
Safe where sin will tempt no more. 

Safe, not numbered with the lost, 
Safe whate'er the grave may boast. 

Safe beyond death's turbid stream, 
Safe through death to joys supreme. 

Safe, where partings are unknown, 
Safe where Christ his friends shall own. 



Safe forever ! Not alone ; 

Safe with loved ones near the throne. 

Safe with Jesus in His love, 
Safe with angels, safe above ! 



33 



°-e* 



NOT LOST! 

Not lost ! not wandering in the dread unknown, 
Fore'er in search of bHss and finding none, 
Where spirits, restless and despairing, roam : 
Not lost! No, no! but gone with angels home. 

Not lost ! but crone for his eternal o-ain 
To that blest land where naught of toil or pain, 
Nor sad farewell, nor sigh of earthly woe. 
Nor weariness, nor grief he e'er can know. 

Not lost ! not in the grave so damp and lone, 
Nor yet, through death, to thee a stranger grown 
Not cold and dead, unconscious 'neath the clod. 
But with the glorified, at home with God. 

Not lost ! Ah no ! from grief and tears refrain. 
His form but sleeps, and sleeps to wake again ! 
God bade him haste to leave his house of clay, 
His mortal robes for those which ne'er decay. 

34 



'THY WILL BE DONEr ^c 



Not lost ! though dim are now the sparkHng eyes, 
Though his fair form in dust now crumbhng lies 
Beneath the drooping cypress in the vale ; 
Yet it shall rise ! God's promise cannot fail ! 



THY WILL BE DONE." 



•"Thy will be done;" 
This is my daily cry, 
Though hopes like shadows fly, 
Though all I love may die, 
And in the tomb may lie. 

Leaving me none. 



"Thy will be done;" 
And yet I can but weep 
That those so dear should sleep 
Down in the grave so deep. 
Though angels guard may keep 

O'er every one. 



36 



"jy/F WILL BE DONE." 

"Thy will be done;" 
Time swiftly onward flies, 
Earth shakes with moans and sighs 
But ransomed souls shall rise, 
And far above the skies 

Shine as the sun. 

" Thy will be done ;" 
Though grief my cup o'erbrim. 
Though tears my eyes may dim, 
All safe from death so grim, 
They now with seraphim 

Life have begun. 

" Thy will be done ;" 
Though all my joys decline, 
And all the world combine 
To crush each trust of mine ; 
Though I heart-sick may pine. 

And weep alone. 

" Thy will be done ;" 
Though earthly pangs increase, 
Though all my comforts cease, 
Soon I shall find release, 
Soon rest in perfect peace. 

The kingdom won. 



"THY WILL BE DONEr 

"Thy will be done;" 
Thine own designs fulfil, 
And mould me to Thy will ; 
Smite me, but love me still, 
Guard me, and oroide me till 

I reach my home. 

"Thy will be done;" 
To Thee m}^ heart will cling, 
To Thee its sorrows brino- ; 
I shall with triumph sing, 
Heaven will with praises ring 

When I shall come ! 



37 




CALMLY SLEEPING. 

Calmly sleeping with the dead, 
Lowly in the clay-cold bed, 
Is the form so fondly pressed 
To your agonizing breast. 

But the darling child you mourn, 
Heav'nward by the angels borne, 
Tastes unsought with glad surprise 
All the bliss of paradise. 

While you kneel with streaming eyes 
Where the cherished dust now lies. 
Angel forms come flitting by, 
Pointing to that world on high. 

When a few more years have gone, 
Heav'n on you shall brightly dawn, 
There you'll meet, and there remain, 
Nevermore to part again ! 



38 



AT THE GRAVE. 

Does the dear loving boy 
Who was ever my joy, 

In silence repose in the tomb? 
Does the beautiful form 
'Neath the cold wintry storm, 

'Neath the clods of the earth find its home? 
Thou art gone to thy rest. 
Thou art now with the blest, 

Though thy form sleeps alone 'neath the willow; 
Yes, thy spirit hath fled. 
Though thy dear little head 

Is laid low on its damp clay pillow. 

O what beauty was thine ! 
It seemed almost divine, 

But the phantom of death mocks me now ; 
Could thy lips touch my cheek, 
And in love once more speak. 

And thy breath fan my feverish brow ; 

. 39 



40 AT THE GRAVE. 

Then the shadows of p-loom 
Which now fall on thy tomb 

Would add less to the sharp pangs of anguish ; 
But I'll cease to complain, 
I shall see thee aeain, 

I will bid my sad heart cease to languish. 

Let me go where I may, 
I shall think all the day 

Of my darling now gone till I die ; 
Him the Lord will restore 
To my arms as of yore, 

When at last I find welcome on high. 
Should I gaze on the bed 
Of the slumbering dead. 

And pour forth the tears of my sorrow ? 
From this black nioht of orief 
I shall soon find relief. 

To my heart I shall press him to-morrow ! 




THE REBELLIOUS PRAYER. 

A MOTHER, bending o'er her child 
In grief, unreconciled and wild. 
Sobbed out, " O that some power would save 
My boy from death, from the cold grave !" 
The servant of the Lord stood by, 
Witnessed her sorrow, heard her cry. 
Her low, heartrending, smothered wail, 
Trembled and wept ; then, deathly pale, 
He kneeled and prayed : 

" O Lord, most High, 
Forbid that this dear boy shall die ! 
To every potion virtue give. 
Rebuke disease, and bid him live. 
If for the twain it may be best ; 
Else take him to the heavenly rest. 
Thine own wise purposes fulfil, 
And give submission to Thy will ; 
That whether length of days, or death, 
We mock not with rebellious breath." 

41 



42 



THE REBELLIOUS PRAYER. 

"Stop! Stop!" And fierce the mother's cry, 

"My child! he must not, shall not die!" 

With streaming eyes she urged her prayer, 

And moaned, and shrieked in her despair, 

"Spare him, O Lord! Whate'er may be 

True of his life, or best for me ! 

I'll bear reproach, and pain, and shame, 

If he may but with me remain ; 

O grant me this one prayer," she cried, 

"Though other pleas are all denied!" 

Her prayer was heard. But after-years 

Oft found that mother bathed in tears. 

The prey of most tormenting fears. 

Her love returned with threats and jeers. 

Each day, in search, she found him in 

Some dark and loathsome haunt of sin ; 

Entreaties, warnings, all were vain, 

Her prayers were mocked with words profane. 

In mad debauch the once fair child 

Mother and Maker oft reviled ; 

His name was heard with dread by all, 

The mother's hopes were turned to gall ; 

At last upon the scaffold high. 

With broken heart, she saw him die ! 



GOING WITH THE TIDE. 

MOTHER, dear ! Come quickly, quickly near ; 

My breath seems short, my pains grow more severe ! 
I've watched the East through all the dreary night, 
And longfed so much to see the mornine lieht, 
That I to you my visions might unfold 
Of heaven's high towers of precious stones and gold. 
I'm weak and faint, the truth I cannot hide ; 

1 leave you soon ; I'm going with the tide. 

While I the visions saw, or slept and dreamed, 

I know not which, to me all real seemed ; 

Far, far across a broad and golden sea 

An angel came, and twice he called for me. 

His thrilling voice was strangely soft and clear, 

Its accents sweet still linger on my ear ; 

I clapped my hands, and stretched them high and wide ; 

He smiled, and said, " I'll wait the ebbing tide," 

43 



A A GOING WITH THE TIDE. 

I saw the dip and flash of his bright oar, 
I saw him moor his boat upon the shore ; 
I saw the waves break gently round his feet, 
I seem to hear him still my name repeat. 
If Jesus sent him, would it not be sin 
For you to murmur should I go with him ? 
No longer here would I from choice abide, 
I wait with joy the ebbing of the tide ! 

The Saviour who such wondrous love has shown 
Is not unkind in calling home His own ; 
And none shall there for loved ones vainly call, 
No tears from sad and weeping eyes shall fall. 
None there shall quake in dread of coming death. 
My thirst and pain will end with my last breath ; 
Soon from these shores the angel's bark shall glide, 
I gladly wait the ebbing of the tide ! 

Death, often called a friend in dark disguise, 
Will not be seen or known beyond the skies ; 
No sorrow breaks, like angry ocean waves, 
O'er souls that weep by new and lonely graves. 
No dreary house, no silent burial ground. 
Where mourners sob and wails of grief resound ; 
In mansions fair we ever shall abide, 
I gladly wait the ebbing of the tide. 



GOING WITH THE TIDE. ^r 

No frightful dreams shall haunt my midnight hours, 
No nightly chills be felt in heavenly bowers ; 
My lips shall feel no burning fever's heat, 
My rest shall there be undisturbed and sweet. 
'Tis hard to part, yet bliss for me, I know. 
With every breath, I long the more to . go ; 
And when I'm gone, say not of me, " He died," 
But, " He passed away with the ebbing tide !" 

Infinite power and goodness surely must 
Do what is best for you and me, I trust ; 
And since so eood, I'm sure it cannot be 
That God will do aught less than this for me. 
Since He is wise, He'll mourn no sad mistake, 
And, save for good, He'll leave no heart to ache ; 
I'll trust His love, and in His bosom hide, 
And wait with joy the ebbing of the tide ! 

Have my grave made upon the little mound 
That by the old red-granite rock is crowned ; 
Where sister May and I so often played. 
It is close by where her fair form was laid. 
Plant there a pine, or fragrant cedar tree. 
That it may live a monument to me ; 
And mark upon my headstone by its side, 
"My darling, who went with the ebbing tide." 



46 



DREAMS OF GLORY- LAND. 



You'll sometimes go with summer's twilight hours 
To see the place and leave your choicest flowers ; 
But do not weep ! Though there my dust be laid, 
I soon shall be where blossoms never fade ; 
There we shall meet and parting pangs be o'er. 
But, mother, look ! Angels are on the shore ; 
One calls for me ! It is my waiting guide ; 
Kiss me good-by, I'm going with the tide ! 



DREAMS OF GLORY -LAND. 

I HAVE had the sweetest dreams 
Of the brightest crystal streams, 

Where the softest spicy breezes, ever blowing. 
Gently sweep the golden strand 
Of the changeless glory-land, 

There I gladly with the angels would be going. 

There sweet proves and fragrant flowers 
Bloom around its stately tower^. 

There the tree of life forevermore is growing ; 
Underneath its cloudless skies 
Countless palaces arise, 

There I gladly with the angels would be going. 




" There sweet groves and fragrant flowers.'' 



Page 46. 



DREAMS OF GLORY- LAND. 



47 



While I dreamed I seemed to hear 
Kindred footsteps drawing near, 

And their feet the silvery waves seemed overflowing ; 
As I looked across the sea 
Happy spirits beckoned me, 

There I gladly with the angels would be going. 

There on my enraptured sight. 
In their robes of snowy white, 

Each on me a smile of tenderness bestowing ; 
Seemed to call me o'er the tide. 
And my long delay to chide. 

There I gladly with the angels would be going. 



©=^25^1 




rmp^^ 



OUR EDEN-LAND. 

O Eden-Land, thy name so sweet 

My eager heart with gladness thrills ; 
Ere long my weary, trembling feet 

Shall walk thy groves and beauteous hills. 
From thy clear fountains I shall drink 

As through thy gardens I shall go. 
And on thy crystal river's brink 

Shall watch its never-ceasing flow. 

Eden-Land, how wondrous fair 
Thy fragrant, ever-blooming flowers ; 

1 soon shall breathe thy balmy air, 
And rest in thy celestial bowers. 

My longing eyes with joy shall see 

The fields whose beauty ne'er shall fade. 

We'll taste the fruits of life's fair tree, 
And find repose beneath its shade. 

4S 



GOING HOME TO-DAY. 

O Eden-Land, widiin thy walls 

Of jewels rare and sparkling gem, 
No gloomy shadow ever falls 

To cloud the New Jerusalem ! 
With rapture I shall there behold 

The mansions of our final rest. 
Shall walk its streets of shinine eold, 

And there shall be supremely blest ! 



49 



GOING HOME TO-DAY. 



The dying words of Jennie, the beautiful daughter of Mrs. C. L, 
Paddock, Bridgeport, Conn. 



Why do you weep around my bed ? 

Though death's dark, threat'ning wave 
May break in fury o'er my head. 

Its wrath I fearless brave. 
All who to Christ for shelter fly, 

Find Him their trust and stay ; 
My mother should be glad that I 

Am going home to-day. 

4 



50 



GOING HOME TO -DA Y. 

The exchange of worlds I do not fear, 
Though passing through the vale ; 

There's naught to harm while Christ is near, 
His arm can never fail. 

mother, dear, I hear you sigh ! 
You should rejoice and say, 

You have no grief nor tears that I 
Am going home to-day. 

This crumbling tenement of clay 

Low in the dust must lie ; 
Yet I rejoice, and well I may. 

That I am called to die. 
At morn I heard the angels sing. 

And some one seemed to say, 
" Let us Q-Q down in haste and brinor 

Dear Jennie home to-day !" 

1 do not, cannot shrink from death. 
Heaven hath such wondrous charms ; 

Jesus will watch my dying breath, 

I'm resting in His arms. 
All bright and cloudless is my sky, 

A light shines on my way, 
O mother! Aren't you glad that I 

Am going home to-day ? 



GOING HOME TO- DA V. 

O how I love my Saviour King, 

I soon shall see His face, 
Lift up my head and let me sing 

The triumphs of His grace. 
Before the sunset I shall die. 

For when I try to pray, 
A sweet voice whispers from on high, 

" You shall come home to-day." 

You must not mourn when I am gone, 

And free from care and pain ; 
Thdugh parted now, 'twill not be long 

Ere we shall meet again. 
And mother, dear, before I die, 

While life ebbs fast away. 
Tell me that you are glad that I 

Am going home to-day. 

And now farewell ! My eyes grow dim, 

My short life's work is done ; 
Jesus is here, I go with Him, 

And soon you too will come. 
One kiss, — with it a last good-by. 

On earth I would not stay ; 
Oh, mother ! Praise the Lord that I 

Am going home to-day. 



51 



TO MY WIFE. 

Softly distant bells are chiming-, 
And the moon is dimly shining, 
And to zenith slowly climbing 

Pale and cold ; 
Tears are still like April showers, 
Hopes are yet like early flowers, 
Time still urges on the hours 

As of old. 

As when we to hope were clinging, 
And distress our hearts was wringing. 
While stern death his pall was flinging 

Long ago 
O'er our dearest household treasure. 
Who enhanced our ever)- pleasure, 
And who blessed with love in measure 

Few can know. 



52 



TO MY WIFE. 

Yes, the tear-drops oft are starting, 

Fresh as in the hour of parting. 

And the wounds of gfrief are smarting • 

Yet our woe 
Soon shall have an end forever, 
We shall soon rejoice together. 
Where the streams of bliss shall never 

Cease to flow. 

When the earth at last is quaking. 
And the dead in Christ are waking, 
And the clouds with glory breaking 

Shall disclose 
Him who once for us hung bleeding, 
Him who knows our earnest pleading. 
Who for us is interceding 

To His foes ; 

And from terrors most appalling. 
They in frantic fear are falling, 
And for mercy loud are calling 

On our king" ; 
Then with anthems sweet and flowing, 
Crowns and robes on us bestowing. 
Angels bright our loved one knowing, 

They shall bring. 



53 



54 



rO MY WIFE. 



Where no age shall need renewing, 
There with tears no graves bedewing, 
We with transport shall be viewing. 

With the blest, 
Fields and Howers celestial, vernal, 
We shall share in bliss supernal ; 
'Midst the changeless, the eternal. 

We shall rest. 







WHAT IS DEATH? 

CHAPTER I. 

" Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." — 
PsA. cxvi. 15. 

"Yea, though I walk through the valley -of the shadow of death, 
I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they 
comfort me." — PsA. xxiii. 4. 

And who and what is death ? Who speaks to praise ? 

Who on his fearful work can wish to gaze, 

And who of all who look him in the face 

With graceful mien can yield to his embrace ? 

Who finds a shadow of alluring charms, 

Who would not shrink from his cold, icy arms ? 

Who hath returned from his unseen domains 
To plan escape from his dissolving pains ? 
Who answers to our call? Who deigns reply? 
And who can tell us what it is to die ? 
We start and shudder at the name of death, 
His presence chills and takes away our breath. 

55 



56 



WHAT IS DEATH? 



Death ! Is he not the fierce, relentless king, 
" The King of Terrors," who so oft doth fling 
Far down upon the valley's lonely path 
The bolts of woe, which quiver with his wrath. 
With fierce, malignant scowl and scornful smile, 
As though he thus would weary self beguile ? 

He grasps the winds, and rides upon the storm. 
He wraps the lightnings round his awful form ; 
While on the mountain's brow he plants his feet. 
And of their fiery plumes he weaves his seat ; 
And tells his rage in thunders long and loud, 
With tongues of flame from every passing cloud ! 

When heaven with gladness earth would overspread. 

Death drops his shadow on each pilgrim's head ; 

He mocks the song and prattle of the chil^. 

To mourner's wail he howls responses wild ; 

He laughs reply to mercy's tender call. 

While for his own he marks both great and small. 

Each footstep of life's way he clouds with gloom, 

And spreads o'er all the mantle of his doom ; 

And whether first or last within the vale. 

Though friends be few and all earth-schemes may fail, 

He does not stoop to aid the most infirm ; 

For treasures lost he erants them no return. 



WHAT IS DEATH? en 

We snatch the flowers which spring up by our side, 
And weave our wreath, and crown the happy bride ; 
Then strive in vain to check the fleeting- years, 
And fain to sighs and moans would sliut our ears ; 
With laugh and jest we would dispel our fears. 
But shout and song are followed soon with tears. 

We grasp the toys men leave upon their track. 
We mourn our haste and often would go back ; 
Yet plod along the rough and toilsome way, 
And make no pause. Death suffers no delay. 
But threatens all, and tortures all mankind 
If rod and vStaff" are spurned and left behind. 

Death is the careless ploughman, -rough and stern, 
Who drives the ugly share afield to turn 
The furrows of affliction deep and wide ; 
And makes no pause, nor ever turns aside. 
That from his path we may with haste remove 
The buds and opening blossoms of our love. 

However fragrant, promising, and fair. 

However beautiful, he will not spare ; 

He sees no beauty, and he knows no care, 

He feels no pity, and he heeds no prayer ; 

But loveliest forms from the hand of God 

Are bruised, and crushed, and buried 'neath the clod. 



58 



WHAT IS DEATH? 

Death is the cruel rider on hfe's road, 

That urges on, with sharpest spur and goad, 

The "Pale Horse," trembling 'neath his frightful load, 

Though fleet and tireless as the rising flood ; 

With foaming lips and nostrils high in air. 

His neigh the mournful knell of man's despair: 

In frantic haste each hour, to overtake 
Both old and young, the humble and the great, 
He dashes on, through all the summer's heat 
And winter's cold, and never knows retreat ; 
They hear his footfall, and in speechless dread 
Feel his hot breath and fall among the dead. 

Death is the reckless reaper, who with might 
Now gathers in with sharp-edged sickle bright 
The sweetest buds and flowers in all the plain, 
The half-grown, beardless wheat with ripest grain ; 
Nor smiles, nor weeps his own sad work to see ; 
But shout for joy ! No sheaf his own can be ! 

Death ever guards our entrance into life. 
And with our breath is oft in well-matched strife ; 
He waits the time and place to strike us down, 
And aims his fearful darts at cowl and crown ; 
He heeds no mother's prayers, he sneers at all, 
And o'er the infant's crib he flings his pall. 



WHAT IS DEATH? eg 

Death daily glides with silent, stealthy feet 

Through lane obscure, through each long busy street ; 

Far up the broken, creaking attic stairs, 

Where pale-faced toil the seamstress-fingers wears ; 

Down through the cellars damp, where panting lie 

The helpless wrecks, who long, yet fear to die. 

Death takes the sweetest treasure of the poor, 
He ties the crape upon the poor man's door ; 
From homes of luxury he will not stay ; 
He walks the halls of pleasure night and day. 
And writes his name in blackness on the wall. 
With mark,s of sure decay defacing all. 

Death looks through palace windows though unseen. 
Sends in the shroud for haughty king and queen. 
No royal guard, however strong and brave. 
Can beat him back or proudest monarch save ; 
Nor sword, nor battle-axe in knight's strong hand 
His thrust repel where'er he takes his stand. 

Death makes approach, all forms of beauty fade, 
In his black robes the fairest must be laid ; 
Not one beloved can be from him concealed, 
Nor age, nor worth can find from him a shield ; 
All soon must feel his awful blighting power: 
We shall do well to watch the comino- hour ! 



6o WHAT JS DEATH? 



CHAPTER II. 

"And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed 
are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them." 
— Rev. xiv. 13. 

Death comes a foe ! But to the saints of God 

What is his power that they should fear his frown ? 

By grace divine they calmly meet his gaze, 

And yet their cheeks grow pale and eyes grow dim. 

In his embrace, so chill, the current of 

Each life, however swift and warm, stands still. 

Death comes, and earthly hopes are swept away. 
Like withered leaves by autumn's howling blast. 
He comes, not to world-weary saints alone, 
Who find all pleasures here but emptiness, 
Who wait release, and daily sigh for home ; 
But to the youth, whose hopes are just in bloom. 

Death comes unbidden, often comes when he 
Is thought so far away that none need fear ; 
Few are so wise that they predict the hour. 
Death asks no favor, and accepts no bribe ; 
Howe'er unwelcome, yet he comes, and none 
So strong that he can close and bar the door. 



WHAT JS DEATH? ■ gj 

The bravest tremble when they hear his step ; 
The strongest weep when they but feel his breath ! 
His presence fills each soul with awe, save those 
Alone who wait with joy exchange of worlds, 
And round their dying bed find angels bright 
To banish fears and guide them to their rest. 

Shall death stand guard at Hades' dreaded gates. 
And roughly seize, with awful threatening mien. 
And fiercely thrust us through to worlds unseen ? 
Shall we, with trembling, shrink from his cold touch ? 
From his unsympathizing cruel grasp 
Shall we escape ? 

Vain the attempt ! And yet 
A Mightier One than death hath cast him down, 
And now bears rule o'er all his dark domains. 
He once in scorn was called " The Nazarene ;" 
Now He is known as Conquerer and King ! 
And at His girdle hang the mystic keys, 
And at His word spring back the heavy bolts. 

He guards the passage to the dread unseen, 
And names the angels who shall light our way ; 
And death, whate'er his might, cannot pass through. 
Mock keeper he may stand, to smite the proud. 
And mark with brand of shame all those who scorn 
The proffered friendship of our Lord Supreme, 



62 



WHAT IS DEATH? 



Yes, death may load them down with scorching chains 
Of vain regrets, and pierce them through and through 
With sharp remorseless pangs, with scorpion stings, 
The fearful offspring of their cherished sins. 
Death strips the wicked of their richest robes, 
And leaves them to their shame and chosen doom ; 

Leaves them a prey to most tormenting fears ; 
Leaves them in darkness with all loathsome things ; 
Leaves them impaled on their own foul desires ! 
Death hath no power on those released from sin. 
He cannot follow those who love the Lord, 
Nor crush their feeblest hopes, nor quench their joy. 

For them the heavenly mansions are prepared, 

To them Elysium's doors are open wide ; 

And holy angels, with their harps of gold, 

And kindred, ransomed by the Saviour's blood, 

With glad hosannas and with waving palms. 

Shout from the towers of glory, "Welcome Home!" 



WHAT JS DEATH? g 



CHAPTER III. 

" For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and 
to be with Christ; which is far better." — Phil. i. 23. 

Death was to Paul the end of anxious toils, 
The exchange of conflicts for the victor's spoils; 
The end of disappointments and of fears, 
A last adieu to sorrow and to tears ; 
The last of clouds across the bright sky driven, 
The glad fruition of his hopes in heaven ; 
Where prayers, in hopeless anguish, are not said 
By weary watchers round the dying bed ; 
Where ^bitter wailings reach no starded ear, 
And sobs of woe the ransomed never hear; 
The end of perils both on land and sea, 
The dawn of glory, where he longed to be; 
The joyous ending- of an honored race, 
Where he should see his Master's smiHne face! 

Death was to him a voyage on that sea 
Whose waves will soon break over you and me ; 
A longed-for voyage across to that blest shore 
Where life-long griefs and heart-aches are no more; 
To that blest land where parting sigh and moan, 
And graves of perished hopes will not be known ; 
And more ! Aye, more ! It was the twilight gray. 
The herald of his Coronation Day ! 



64 



WHAT IS DEATH? 



Death watches every human bark afloat; 

He dimbs each vessel's side and rides the mast, 

And oft predicts the dark approaching storm. 

He points to frightful wrecks far off and near, 

To rocks concealed by silver-crowned proud waves. 

And often thus forewarns of coming doom. 



fc> 



Death never walks the deck of ship that courts 
The favoring breeze ! That crowds all canvas on 
To make the longed-for port. However fierce, 
And though the human craft be worn and frail. 
He hath not power to rend or touch a sail 
When heavenly pilot holds the trembling helm ! 

Death can but loose the rusty cable of 

Our earthly cravings, loves, and eager hopes, 

Which holds us fast, then thrusts us out from shore 

Into the arms of the retreatino^ tide : 

And this, — whate'er his rage, — aye, only this 

For our last voyage, from which none e'er returns 

To ship that, without chart or compass, drifts 
Upon the deep with every changing tide 
And shifting wind, and sights no heavenly port, 
He comes a terror ! Flings upon the rocks, 
Ploughs up the sea, then drives the tempest mad, 
And overwhelms in billows of despair ! 



WHAT IS DEATH? 



65 



Death is the ugly porter, strong, deep-voiced, 

Who wakes us from our strange and changeful dreams, 

Who roughly shakes our doors and bids us rise 

And gird our loins, and urge our journey home. 

He marks for us and tells the parting hour : 

The hour for parting with our kindred here, 

And the glad hour for greeting the beloved, 

Who lonof have watched and waited for the time 

To shout our welcome to their blest abode. 

We hear his voice, and rush with trembling haste 

From our decaying tenement of earth ; 

We open wide our wondering eyes, and gaze 

On the unfoldine Sfates of Paradise ! 

Death is the sexton's overseer ; and deaf 

To every cry and wail of mourner's grief, 

He heeds no sob of age nor infant moans. 

But gives command, in stern and chilling tones, 

For new-made graves, though dark and damp and cold. 

Which for awhile all forms of beauty hold. 

The sexton old his urgent work performs. 
Midst summer's heat or winter's wildest storms. 
He finds no hour when he from toil may cease, 
Death pities not and grants him no release ; 
Nor may he spade and pickaxe lay aside 
For lovely child, nor yet for happy bride. 

5 



56 WHAT IS DEATH? 

Death clambers up the church tower's dizzy height, 
Himself to toll the bells ! 'Tis his delight. 
He tolls the bells in belfry large and small, 
And rings with solemn peal for each and all ; 
On every home, with mingled smile and frown 
And restless eye, he ever gazes down. 

Death tolls the bells ! Not to proclaim the end 
Of life and earthly friendships pure and sweet, 
Nor yet to tell the tale of withered hopes ! 

Death tolls the bells ! But not to tell our friends 
The hour for putting on their mourning robes, 
The hour for weeping o'er our mouldering dust! 

Death tolls the bells! Yet not to mock our orief; 

For every stroke is overruled by heaven, 

And made to sound or swell some note of joy ! 

Death tolls the bells ! Yet not in sympathy 
For loss, but to proclaim that all our toils 
And our long earthly exile have an end ! 

Death tolls the bells! And thus makes known to friends 
And happy kindred spirits near the throne 
Our comine to their rest and home! 



WHAT IS DEATH? 57 

Death strikes 
The signal for the blest to take their harps, 
With robe and crown for every soul forgiven, 
And haste to meet us by the portals bright, 
And lead the way, with waving banners and 
With rapturous songs, to our eternal, 
Undefiled inheritance on high ! 



Grim-visaged death! He comes, he comes, "The King 
Of Terrors !" Yet, at most, unrobes for sleep 
The weary child of nature and of God. 
" The Kine of Terrors ?" Go, in silence stand 
With weeping mourners near the lonely spot 
Where Lazarus, wrapped in grave-clothes, sleeps. 
And hear the voice that calls him from the tomb. 
Death trembles at that voice, and hides his face. 
And makes obeisance to the Prince of Life ! 

Death is pronounced the foe of all our race, 
Life Is esteemed the chief of all our friends ; , 
Though they are mutual foes, both serve our ends. 
To saints of God whose anxious toils are past, 
Who underneath oppressive burdens bend ; 
Who for release do sit, and sigh, and pine. 
Or weep by darkened windows all day long, 
Death comes a boon, and cannot come too soon. 



58 WHAT JS DEATH? 

Life yields to our desires and earnest prayers, 
And leaves us captive here, estranged from bliss ; 
Leaves us in willino^ conflict with our fears 
And manifold infirmities, and puts 
The day of heavenly greetings far away. 
Thus craved indulgence robs of highest good. 
And what we long for most binds here to pain, 
And ever holds us back from richest gain. 
Hence, all who are renewed and robed for heaven 
Are better served by death, though not a friend. 

Death has no sympathy with prayers or tears. 
With haughty step and cold, imperious frown 
He makes survey of our poor "earthly house;" 
And oft impatient of the long delay, 
He wrenches back the treacherous blinds 
Which, to our erief, shut out the waninof lio-ht ; 
He breaks the clinorinor tendrils, lifts the vines, 
Opens the moss-grown windows, and lets in 
The gentle, fragrant breezes from the groves 
And plains, and distant gardens of the Lord ! 
Nor yet content, he bursts the trembling doors, 
Comes stalking in, removes our mortal chains, 
And thrills us with the startling cry, " Begone !" 

Redeemed from sin, at peace with God, we fold 
Our hands, and smiling haste our way, assured 



69 



HE ONLY SLEEPS. 

No ill, no woe can follow on our track. 
Death does his worst, and to the very last. 
But leaves us at the vestibule of heaven ! 
Behind us curtains dark as nig-ht are drawn, 
The gates are made secure against return. 
And, to our joy, shut out each hurtful thing. 
And we are blest forevermore. Amen ! 

" We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the 
body, and to be present with the Lord." — 2 Cor. v. 8. 



HE ONLY SLEEPS. 

He sleeps ! He sleeps, dear mourner, only sleeps, 
Death only struck the hour for him to rest! 
Relentless hands so grim, stretched out for spoils, 
Grasped but the crumbling clay and set him free ; 
Free from his earthly prison-house of pain. 
Free from all pangs and fears, forever free ; 
Nor can the greedy grave do more than boast 
That he shall hold the cherished dust awhile ! 
His greatest victory is not worth the name. 
For Gabriel's trump shall soon and surely sound, 
And our dear Lord shall all of worth reclaim. 
So neither death nor grave shall aught retain ! 



JO 



BE ONLY SLEEPS. 



He sleeps ! To you he sleeps ; yet 'tis not sleep. 
From that deep slumber here, so chill, profound, 
He woke in heaven to slumber never-more ; 
The tollinor t)ell was to the an^el bands 
A signal for fresh strains of " Welcome home !" 
You call his name, with memories fragrant dear, 
And wait the sound of little pattering feet ; 
Wait for the sweet response you'll no more hear ; 
Then weep, and heavy throbs the aching heart ! 

But would you weep if, when in eager search 

For friends to you most dear and ever true. 

You found that for a habitation new 

The fallinor house was left, whate'er its aofe. 

And though decay seemed strange and premature ? 

And would you weep though echo answered back 

Your calls from vacant rooms and crumbling walls ? 

Would our unselfish love regret the change, 

Or would we wish to brinor them back aorain ? 

What is a house or Jiouie without a child ? 

How like a garden without plants or flowers ; 

Or clock that gives no sound, nor marks the hours ; 

Or like a massive, costly picture-frame 

Upon the wall, beautiful but empty ; 

Bare canvas only there to greet the eye ; 



HE ONLY SLEEPS. 7 1 

No form of beauty, pencil sketch, or touch 
Of artist's skilful hand to orive it worth. 
And without children what would heaven be ? 
Devoid of half its wealth of joy and bliss ; 
Suggesting place for child-delights ; and then, 
Wrapping us 'round with precious memories. 
To prove, alas ! but changeless robes of torture ; 
Both warp and woof, made up of vain regrets. 

Heaven without children ? It much would be 
Like life with every joy and hope crushed out. 
Of all the blest in heaven, none are more dear ! 
When welcomed there the little ones will be 
The first to greet us by the pearly gates. 

In love more tender and abiding than 
Our own, however deep and strong, our Lord 
With haste sent angels down to bear away 
Your lovely child to mansions bright above. 
Then dry your tears, and haste the heavenly way. 



■"^^^^^^ 






WATCHING BY THE GATE. 

A little boy of seven years, who had often asked his pious mother 
to tell him of heaven, after a long and painful illness lay upon his 
dying bed. 

When his breath grew short, he asked his mother to raise him up 
and let his head rest upon her bosom. As her tears fell on his face he 
begged her not to weep ; for, said he, " I am going to heaven, and 
when Jesus gives me the golden harp, I shall take it and sit down 
by the gate till you come." 

As she bent down closely to catch the last whisper, she heard the 
words, "Angels— they have come." Then for a few moments he re- 
vived. Shading his eyes with his little white hand, as though to aid 
his failing sight, he exclaimed, with his last feeble breath, " Mamma, 
I almost see the city !" and was gone. 

O MOTHER ! I hear 

The sweetest, soft sound ; 
It comes to me here, 

It floats all around, 
It fills all the' room ; 

I think it must be 
The angels have come, 

And are waitino- for me. 
You fade from my sight, 

I hardly can see ! 

72 



WATCHING BY THE GATE. 

Is the sun, just now bright, 

Shut in for the night? 
The clock just struck three ; 

Who'll brinof in the lif^ht? 

I feel strangely weak, 

Something holds back my breath, 
And I scarcely can speak : 

Do you think it is death ? 
If no lamp they can find, 

Perhaps I can see 
If they throw back the blind! 

"Not dark?" 'Tis to me. 
But in heaven, you say, 

Sad tears never flow. 

Nor dark night of woe 

Its inhabitants know ; 

And I'm longing to go ! 

why should I stay? 

Yes, soon we must part ; 

Raise me up in my bed. 
And once more to your heart 

Press my poor aching head ; 
Let your breath fan my brow. 

Keep back the deep sigh; 

1 see a lieht now ! 



73 



74 



WATCHING BY THE GATE. 

It breaks from the sky, 
From the clear upper deep ; 
O that music ! How sweet, 

How grand, and how near ! 

What voice do I hear ? 

It now calls my name ; 

why should you weep ? 

The city so bright. 

Of which I've been told, 
Is almost in sight ; 

Its streets paved with gold, 
Its walls broad and high, 

Its mansions so fair, 
With its soft summer sky ; 

I soon shall be there, 

1 shall soon be at rest ! 
Weep not when I'm gone, 

I shall never again 
Weep in sorrow or pain ; 

1 shall sing the " New Song" 
With the ransomed and blest. 

I have no weary road. 

No journey to fear. 
The angels of God 

Are waiting me here ; 



EXCHANGES. 

They now throng my room, 

And no lono-er can wait. 
Oh ! my bright heavenly home 

I shall stay by the gate ; 
With the harp to me given, 

Watch for you I shall keep ; 
I'll not wander away. 
Nor my harp cease to play ; 

I shall not fall asleep 
Until you are in heaven. 



75 



EXCHANGES. 

O'erspread by the dark gloom of night 
Is the day which was dawning so fair; 

The hopes once so dazzling and bright, 
Alas ! are consumed by despair. 



How wearily too drag the hours 

Which you yesterday wished to detain ; 

How withered to-day are the flowers 

Which in freshness you longed to retain. 



16 



EXCHANGES. 



The clear, silvery voice is now hushed, 
And its heart-thrilling tones cease to roll 

From the sweet rosy lips from which gushed 
Love's tender response from the soul. 



All nature seems changed, like the glow 
Of health on the cheek of the dead ; 

Strange and cheerless appears all below, 
For alone life's dark path you must tread. 



What changes for him whom you mourn? 

Released from all anguish and pain. 
His heart ne'er with grief shall be torn, 

Nor tears dim his vision aeain. 



This life is exchanged for a home 
Where none find a languishing bed ; 

Where none shall in loneliness roam. 
Nor weep o'er the graves of the dead. 



His garments for robes pure and white. 
His sones for the sonors of the blest ; 

His toys for a crown gem-bedight 
Exchano-ed, and he now is at rest ! 



NO TEARS IN HEAVEN. 

This chill night of woe soon shall end, 
And the light of eternity dawn, 

To grief thou shalt nevermore bend, 
All trapes of tears shall be gone. 

Thou'lt rest where the flowers never fade. 
Where soul-sadd'ning change is unknown, 

With kindred in glory arrayed, 

With loved ones forever at home ! 



n 



NO TEARS IN HEAVEN. 

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there 
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there 
be any more pain." — Rev. xxi. 4. 

"And God shall wipe away all tears;" 
No words more sweet the mourner hears ! 
How blest while o'er the trembling soul 
The chilling floods of grief may roll ; 
While bitter tears unchecked may flow. 
How blessed, then, it is to know 
That, ransomed and renewed, we may 
Soon have our tears all wiped away. 



78 



NO TEARS IN HEAVEN. 

"And God shall wipe away all tears;" 
No wail of woe shall reach our ears, 
When for our welcome shall unfold 
The gates of pearl and burnished gold; 
There we shall walk the shining streets, 
While every pulse with rapture beats 
With all the pure in heart, and they 
Shall find their tears all wiped away. 

" And God shall wipe away all tears ;" 
Each trace of sorrow disappears 
When the redeemed in love are prest 
To his own sympathizing breast ! 
As with caress and voice so mild 
A mother soothes her weeping child, 
As fears and grief she would allay. 
So God shall wipe all tears away. * 

"And God shall wipe away all tears," 
And banish all tormenting fears ; 
A balm provide for every grief. 
To burdened souls give sweet relief; 
And streams of sorrow which may flow 
In our life's pilgrimage below 
Shall each and all be dried for aye. 
For He shall wipe all tears away. 



NO TEARS IN HEAVEN. 

" And God shall wipe away all tears !" 
No weeper e'er in heaven appears, 
Nor mourns a long and lonely night ; 
But all are clothed in robes of white, 
And each with harp and song and crown, 
With friends beloved shall there sit down, 
And share the bliss of endless day, 
For God shall wipe all tears away. 

"And God shall wipe away all tears!" 

How thoughts of heaven the pledge endears. 

Whate'er our toils and conflicts here, 

We soon in glory shall appear. 

And find from sin and pain release ; 

There all is blissful rest and peace. 

Why wish on earth to longer stay, 

Since God shall wipe all tears away ? 

" And God shall wipe away all tears" 
Through all the reach of endless years ; 
There none o'er kindred dead shall weep, 
There mourners no sad vigils keep ; 
There we shall see our Saviour King, 
His matchless love in worship sing, 
While at His feet our crowns we lay, 
Who gently wipes all tears away ! 



79 



COULD YOU KNOW. 



If but one glimpse to you were given 

Of children elorified in heaven, 

Or could you know their blissful rest. 

All murmuring thoughts would be repressed. 

Could you but see the robes of white, 
The harps of gold, and crowns so bright, 
You would be more than reconciled 
To the departure of your child. 

Could you but hear one single strain 
Of anthems sweet, or grand refrain 
Which anofels sinsf, w^hen children come 
From earth to their celestial home : — 



If from what suffering here below 

Your child is saved you could but know. 

Your heart would throb with grateful joy. 

And praise unfeigned your tongue employ. 
80 



THE OTHER SIDE. gi 

From scenes of trial, sin, and grief 
Your darling boy has found relief; 
All mortal pains and mortal strife 
Are now exchanged for endless life. 



Trust love divine ! Believe the Lord ; 
Give Him your heart, rest on His word; 
Trust Him each hour, though dark it be, 
Then dear ones you in heaven shall see. 



THE OTHER SIDE. 

Oft amidst the deepening shadows, 

As we linger on the shore. 
In the midst of death's dark river. 

Kindred spirits passing o'er 
Leave behind them precious tokens. 

As they cross the billows wide. 
That a happy greeting waits us 

Over on the other side ! 



82 THE OTHER SIDE. 

Dark and chill the foaming waters, 

Fearfully they surge and roar, 
But with arms divine about us 

We are safe forevermore. 
With our blest angelic convoy 

We shall storms and waves outride, 
And be sure to find a welcome 

Over on the other side. 



Yes, when earthly toils are over, 

And we whisper our good-by. 
Angels bright o'er us shall hover, 

And shall watch each parting sigh ; 
With glad songs and warm caresses 

They shall bear us o'er the tide. 
To the land of changeless glory, 

Over on the other side. 






WEEP NOT. 

O WEEP not for the loved one eone, 
Impetuous floods of grief restrain. 

Thy night of tears shall find its dawn, 
Thy wept-for child be thine again. 

Shall death thy faith and trust o'erthrow, 
And bitter tears e'ermore be shed ? 

Why thus with agonizing woe 
Bend hourly o'er the little bed ? 

In every form of loveliness 

The Lord doth ever take delight, ^ 

And to His bosom He will press 

Each child of hope which death may smite. 

O weep not, nor despairing sigh. 

With breaking heart and speechless gloom ; 
Thy darling is with Christ on high, 



For such the shininsf hosts make room. 



83 



84 



WEEP NOT. 

The child you loved, He loves yet more, 
And while forever safe with Him, 

Should He to earthly life restore, 

And to these shades so dark and grim ? 



The crib is empty, yet why weep ? 

Your child is free from grief and pain. 
And soon the form which now doth sleep 

Shall wake to joyous life again ! 

O weep not; but if weep you must, 
Then let your tears be tears of joy; 

For God shall ouard the slumberino- dust, 
And safely keep your darling boy. 



Then drive all murm'ring thoughts away. 
Faint not 'neath clouds of gathering gloom ; 

Night soon shall be exchanged for day. 

Heaven's lieht falls on the loved one's tomb. 



HERE AND THERE. 

Here bright buds of hope are blasted, 
Here fade fairest blossoms given ; 

Here is death, yet to your darhng 
Here it was the dawn of heaven. 

There none^ die ! Heart desolation 
There to none can ever come ; 

There is freedom from temptation, 
There none sig-h for health or home. 



& 



Here are foes malignant, cruel, 
Here life seems a tiresome jest ; 

Here are frequent painful partings, 
Here is grief a constant guest. 

There no enemy can torture, 
There no tales of woe repeat; 

There the soul is ever tranquil. 
There the loved each other greet. 



85 



85 HERE AND THERE. 

Here are bitter disappointments, 
Here clouds darken every sky ; 

Here are long and trembling- watchings, 
Here we see our loved ones die. 



There no ties of love are broken, 
There no shadow e'er appears ; 

There no sad farewells are spoken. 
There no eye is dim with tears. 

Here is now an empty cradle, 
Here a new and narrow grave ; 

Here a little marble tablet. 

Here ends all the joy he gave. 

There all live and love forever. 

There you'll see your child so dear 

There you soon shall dwell together, 
There he's happier, far, than Here. 




ON THE MORROW. 

Kneeling by the cold headstone, 
Weeping there with sob and groan, 
O'er the ^erave silent and lone. 

Deep and narrow ; 
O'er the grave, with sigh and moan. 
Of thy last and only one, 
Left to plod along alone 

On the morrow. 

Though her fairy form decay 

In the dark, damp grave to-day, 

From thy future, in survey, 

Hope may borrow 

Joy which shall all grief outweigh, 

Which shall all heart-pangs allay, 

Which may smooth thy lonely way 

On the morrow. 

87 



88 ANOTHER GONE. 

Thoug-h by death bereaved, distrest, 
Though by anguish sore opprest, 
Cease to smite thine aching breast 

In thy sorrow ; 
With thy darHng thou shah rest, 
With the holy and the blest, 
W^ith thy Lord a welcome guest 

On the morrow ! 



ANOTHER GONE. 

Another sob, another tear, 
Another wail of grief I hear. 

Another cup of earthly woe. 
Another broken heart below. 

Another gone ! None left to love ; 
Another voice is heard above. 

Another heart has ceased to beat, 
Another loved one angels greet. 



ANOTHER GONE. 

Another cold and narrow tomb, 
Another vacant seat at home. 

Another marble slab to bear 
Another name to you so dear. 

Another form beneath the sod, 
Another spirit with its God. 

Another orone ! The last of seven ! 

■O 

Another waits for thee in heaven. 

Another trial waits thee here, 
Another home and o-reetino- there. 



89 













GONE TO THE BETTER LAND. 

Gone to the better land, 

All anguish past, 
Where sky and landscape grand 

Clouds ne'er o'ercast ; 
Visions of glory will 
Each heart with rapture fill, 
Nor blossoms feel the chill 

Of wintry blast. 

Gone to the better land, 

Still fairer grown, 
Loved ones about him stand 

Heirship to own ; 

Flowers they with transport bring. 

And round his feet do fling. 

While anthems sweet they sing 

Around the throne. 
90 



GONE TO THE BETTER LAND. 

Gone to the better land ! 

When on the shore 
You the celestial strand 

Touch with your oar ; 
Then on your waiting ear, 
Breaking in accents clear, 
His voice again you'll hear, 

Sweet as of yore. 

Gone to the better land ; 
Hear ye his call ? 
Safely with angel band 

He waits you all. 
There with the pure and blest, 
Ever the Saviour's guest. 
Soon you with him shall rest, 

Mourn not hig fall. 

Gone to the better land, 

Where harp of gold 
His little fairy hand 

Ever shall hold. 
Soon ends life's weary race, 
Soon through redeeming grace 
You shall his radiant face 

In bliss behold. 



91 



EVA'S LAMENT. 

And she is gone ! My Bessie gone ! 

I hear no carol at the dawn, 

Earth's brightest hopes are all withdrawn. 

I hear no answer to my call, 
By voice or footstep in the hall ; 
The pall of death hangs over all. 



I Pfo in orrief from room to room, 

No sight, no sound relieves the gloom 

The house is now a living tomb. 



I sought to shield the child so fair 
From all my toils, and griefs, and care, 
Yet each she found a way to share. 

For every wish she would inquire, 
And oft anticipate desire ; 
In loving service never tire. 



92 



EFA'S LAMENT. 



93 



With artless moan and soft caress, 

In sympathetic tenderness 

My throbbing temples she would press. 



But white and cold those hands are now 
Which soothed so oft my aching brow, 
And I in loneliness must bow. 



My home ! Alas, it cannot be 
Again what it has been to me 
While her sweet face I no more see ! 



This world affords no healing balm, 
Life has for me no further charm. 
Death in my soul makes no alarm. 



It may dissolve this house of clay, 
I plead and wish for no delay. 
My fondest hopes on Christ I stay. 



Though all my kindred loved or known 

May die, and I be left alone, 

And cherished hopes are all o'erthrown. 



94 



TO DIE WAS GAIN. 

I soon in heaven shall find my rest, 
With all the holy and the blest, 
And take my darling- to my breast. 

And there I hope and long to be, 
From all my woes and heart-aches free, 
Redeemer and redeemed to see. 



TO DIE WAS GAIN. 

O CHILD of God and friend of mine, 
Who can assuage such grief as thine? 
Words may but vex, they oft annoy ; 
But could you see your angel boy. 
And could you know his blest employ, 
Your heart would bound with matchless joy. 

For him to die was endless gain, 
A glad escape from toil and pain ; 
To you a loss we all deplore. 
Yet weep not, grieve not evermore ; 
He is not lost, but " gone before," 
He waits thee on the " shinine shore." 



TO DIE WAS GAIN. 

Can earthly power make life secure, 
Or find for parting pangs a cure? 
O no ! But soon the morn shall break, 
When all who sleep in Christ shall wake ; 
Then to these lonely hearts that ache 
The loved and longed-for we shall take. 

We oft may drain the cup of woe 
While lingering in these shades below ; 
But where our Lord the ransomed greets, 
And friend with friend in rapture meets, 
And every pulse with transport beats. 
We soon shall taste ecstatic sweets. 

Do fears like mountains round you rise. 
And clouds of doubt now veil your skies? 
Above them all you soon shall be, 
And from the mountain's summit see 
The mansions fair prepared for thee, 
And from all doubts and fears be free. 

Be firm ! To Christ all vows renew, 
W^ith eager haste your way pursue ; 
Soon we shall find release from care. 
Soon crowns and robes of white shall wear. 
Soon all the bliss of heaven we'll share. 
Your child, your treasures, wait you there ! 



95 



GONE WITH ANGELS. 

Gone with the angels, her kindred to greet, 
Gone from a desolate, sin-shadowed shore ; 

Gone to her home ! Death is not a long sleep, 
Unconscious, unknown, in dust evermore. 

Gone with the anofels, and eone to her rest. 
Gone to a land where no tears ever fall ; 

Walking with joy, hand in hand with the blest, 
Gone to her Saviour, far better than all. 

Gone where none pine on a languishing bed. 

Gone where no storm-clouds e'er darken the sky, 

Gone where none weep o'er the dying or dead, 
Gone to the mansions of glory on high. 

Gone to her God, cease your loss to deplore, 
Rise from your sorrow, from weeping refrain ; 

Rather rejoice, and the Saviour adore, 

Though sad are your hearts, your loss is her gain. 

q6 



HE LIVES AND LOVES. 

Disconsolate ! Hope disappears, 
Your aching eyes are dim with tears 
That one so dear, of tender years, 

Should thus be called away. 
But while in grief your hearts must bow, 
A dazzling crown is on his brow ! 
Why weep ? Your child is happier now 

In realms of endless day. 

Forever free from worldly cares, 

A glistening robe of white he wears. 

And in those dimpled hands he bears 

A shining harp of gold. 
Jesus loved him, and He knew 
Your hearts would bleed, though from your view, 
To save from coming ill, He drew 

Him to His heavenly fold. 

7 97 



pg HE LIVES AND LOVES. 

Ana-els now fold him 'neath their wines, 
And whisper most delightful things, 
While he with rapture ever sings 

With them the heavenly song. 
There Satan's wiles, nor sin, nor pain, 
None ever reach, — let him remain. 
Why wish the loved one back again ? 

Him you may join ere long. 

In heaven ! Secure, forever blest, 

There is no sighing there for rest. 

Nor wish for aught not there possessed. 

With Jesus ! Happy place ! 
In all most dear he shareth too, 
Yet loves you still ; to heaven would woo ; 
With outstretched hands he waits for you 

With radiant, smiline face. 

In sorrow's vale, till now untrod. 

Submissive kiss affliction's rod ; 

Nor grieve, nor tremble, lest thy God 

In anger lets it fall. 
The chast'ning smart the saint oft feels, 
Yet God in grief Himself reveals. 
And all our wounds He freely heals. 

He has a balm for all. 



ARRIVED AT HOME. 

To Jesus look ! Your hearts he'll cheer, 
And thoupfh the blow seems most severe, 
'Twas given in love, earth's now less dear, 

But heaven hath greater charms. 
A few days more of toil and pain, 
Ye stricken ones, to you remain ; 
Then Winnie you shall see again. 

And clasp in your fond arms. 



99 



ARRIVED AT HOME. 

Oh ! would you, could you willingly retain 

Your precious child, so innocent and fair, 
So free from guile, from every sinful stain, 

So ripe for heaven? Would you detain him where 
Each pure emotion and each throb of joy 

Must know the chill or feel the check of sin ? 
Would you from heaven keep back your darling boy, 

Or mourn that bliss so quickly should begin ? 



IQQ ARRIVED AT HOME. 

Would you detain and bind die loved one where 

All bright and joyous expectations fail, 
Where joys are transient as a breath of air, 

Or like the glimmer of some distant sail, 
Borne from our sight on ocean's heaving breast ? 

Where every longed-for cup of earthly bliss, 
However full, must leave within at best 

An aching void, whatever lip it kiss ? 

With all earth proffers to the brim fill up. 

Fill just as pride or envy may demand ; 
To overflowing fill each grasped-for cup. 

And fill for every eager, trembling hand ; 
Fill with all love as cautious as you will, 

Yet each will drink with grief and tears ; for all 
Each cup of joy find mixed with dregs of ill. 

And every draught its measure hath of gall. 

Fond mother, would you, could you then detain 

In these unfriendly shades of earthly woe, 
Of conflict, tears, and weariness and pain, 

Or grieve that he to heaven should early go ? 
Should your deep yearning love still bind him here, 

Bind him to toil, temptation, cankering cares. 
To years of burden-bearing, hard, severe. 

In slippery paths beset with fatal snares ? 



NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. iqi 

No ! No, dear mourner, no ! It cannot be ; 

You must be reconciled to let him oro. 
He has escaped from ill you cannot see, 

Though leaving you to weep awhile below. 
With sighs and sobs, you say, " He's dead and gone !" 

And yet he lives ! Nor can he cease to love ; 
And angel bands proclaim, "Arrived at home!" 

And soon, if faithful, you shall meet above. 



NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 

" There shall be no night there." — Rev. xxi. 25. 

Is it night ? With a sigh over his unfinished work, the artist lays 
aside his brush, the sculptor his chisel, the artisan his tools. The 
husbandman leaves the plough in the furrow, and calls home the 
wandering flocks and herds. The children put away their toys, and 
fain would escape the touch of the deepening shadows. The music of 
their voices is hushed. The birds cease to sing, and look for a place 
of shelter. The window-blinds are closed, the doors are shut and 
barred, and the wheels of ten thousand industries are still. 

Night, dark and gloomy ! Night, with the hoarse shrieking blast, 
shutting up the soul with its past, with the remembrance of its mani- 
fold delinquencies and offences, startling with a recall of infelicities and 
infidelides, with a view of sins long indulged, whose presence was 
scarcely suspected. Night, overwhelming the worn and storm-tossed 
mariner with dread, driving the bed-ridden sufferer well-nigh mad 



I02 



NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 



with the sense of loneliness and desolation ! Night, the time for 
prowling beast, for thief and incendiary, for burglar and assassin ! 
Night? Passion is unchecked, lust is unbridled, revenge, mocking 
at restraint, unsheathes the bloody knife. 

But "There shall be no night there!" And if no night, there 
can be nothing of which it is the appropriate emblem. 

"The night of adversity" embraces all painful earth experiences. 
Under this figure you tell the story of your griefs. Bereavements, 
disappointments, sicknesses, sorrows, and remorseful recollections are 
the heavy clouds which cover your skies, leaving no star of hope or 
comfort amidst the gloom. 

Fears and distressing apprehensions are the overhanging shadows, 
the appalling spectres of the darkness. Misfortunes are the chilling 
damps creeping over the weary traveller who has lost his way. 

When a friend, to whose life are linked our sweetest memories and 
cherished hopes, is slowly fading from some fatal disease ; when that 
friend, over whom we tenderly and anxiously are watching, is hourly 
growing weaker, and the whole frame quivers in its struggle for breath ; 
when the eyes grow dim, and we listen to the whispered farewell, how 
do the gathering shadows deepen ! When death spreads his mantle 
over us in the hour of bereavement, it seems as broad as the skies. 

Yes, night, black and dreary, uncheered by moon or star, is the 
fitting emblem of sorrow and despair. But "There shall be no night 
there!" No fears shall torture, no robber's hand shall grasp our 
treasures, no assassin shall lurk in concealment. There shall be no 
sighing over defeated plans or unfinished work ; no interruption in 
holy employments or pleasures ; no weariness ; no overtasked energies ; 
no trembling limbs ; no aching hearts ; no abatement of heavenly joys. 

"There shall be no night there!" The sun .of righteousness 
breaks through all the gathering blackness of the centuries. From 
the cross of Calvary streams the light which illuminates all our path- 
way to the skies 1 From the cross flash forth the pledges of endless 
life and bliss ! Over the Saviour's empty tomb we find the promise of 
eternal day ! 



NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN iq- 

No night shall be in heaven ; no sable pall 
O'er forms of kindred spirits there shall fall ; 
Night shadows shall be banished far away, 
Nor darkness dim the light of endless day. 



No night shall be in heaven ; no pilgrim roam 

In loneliness and grief afar from home ; 

Nor watch with tears his sun of hope go down 

Beneath the storm-fiend's dark and threatening frown. 



No night shall be in heaven ; no shade of woe, 
No weary eyes shall watch the twilight glow ; 
No sleepless soul shall sigh for shortened hours, 
For morning sun to gild its lofty towers. 



No night shall be in heaven ; no watchers stand 
By couch of pain or death in that blest land, 
Or bend with broken heart, 'midst chilling gloom, 
O'er graves of buried hopes or loved one's tomb. 



No night shall be in heaven ; no cold winds blow, 
No howling wintry blast we there shall know ; 
No summer's sultry breath nor noonday glare, 
But breezes soft and skies forever fair. 



I04 



DEATH DEFEATED. 

No nieht shall be in heaven ; with liorht divine 
Its jasper walls and pearly gates shall shine ; 
Each happy soul be clothed in robes of white, 
Its mansions all be filled with glory bright. 



DEATH DEFEATED. 

Did you see death's frightful shadow, 
As he crossed the threshold o'er? 

Did you see the swift- winged seraphs 
From the bright celestial shore ? 

Did you see the heavenly radiance 

Which swept o'er your darling's face? 

And the hands stretched forth to welcome 
Spirit-forms in fond embrace ? 



Did you see the wondrous vision 
Which was mirrored in her eyes, 

As the blest angelic convoy 
Pointed to the opening skies ? 



DEATH DEFEATED. ^^r 



Did you see death's frowning visage, 
And his look of maddened shame, 

When, with smile of calm assurance, 

Thrice she breathed the Saviour's name? 



"Jesus loves me! Jesus calls me! 

Jesus, beckoning, waits for me ! 
All the shining way to heaven 

White-robed harpers I can see !" 



Did you see death's disappointment. 
When at last, in glad surprise, 

In the arms of holy angels 
She was borne to paradise ? 



Death may cloud our daily pathway. 
And environ us with fears ; 

He may threaten, pierce, and torture, 
And bedim our eyes with tears ; 



He may mock us all life's journey, 
'Tis the worst that he can do ; 

We shall reach the gates of glory, 
And with angels shall pass through 



HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 

When wearied with the long day's toil, 

And fadine twilight marks its close, 
How blest, from all the world's turmoil. 

To fold our hands in sweet repose. 
How hushed the quiet evening's calm, 

While lengthening shadows round us creep, 
What precious words of healing balm, 

" He giveth His beloved sleep !" 

When we shall lay our burdens down, 

Nor faint and footsore longer roam. 
What priceless boon our life shall crown 

When Jesus whispers, "Welcome home!" 
Sweet angel voices, too, at last 

Shall say, "Thy path so rough and steep 
Hath found an end, thy toils are past, 

'He giveth His beloved sleep.'" 

io6 




How hushed the quiet evening"s cahn. 



Page io6. 



OUR DARLING. 

The race of life will soon be run, 

And songs of cheer dispel our fears ; 
The goal be reached and heav'n be won, 

And joy shall follow sighs and tears. 
Our trembling limbs shall find their rest, 

Our Saviour bids us cease to weep, 
And pillowed on His loving breast, 

" He giveth His beloved sleep." 



107 



OUR DARLING. 



Two little words, the last "good-by," 
The parting kiss and gentle sigh, 
A sudden start, a shivering moan, 
A smile, and we were left alone. 



Two little curls of golden hair 
Which swept his brow so pale and fair, 
With sobs of woe and tenderest care. 
We laid away in our despair. 



Io8 OUR DARLING. 

Two little tears like pearls again 
Will no more touch the window-pane, 
When in mock grief and boyish play 
From beckoning hands we turn away. 



Two little laughing, dark-blue eyes, 
As bright as stars in cloudless skies, 
Which sfem or diamond far outshine. 
No more on earth will look in mine. 



Two dimpled cheeks no more will be 
Upraised for good-night kiss to me. 
Nor flush with pleasure or with pain, 
Nor flash with crystal grief again. 



Two trembling eyelids closed so tight 
In feigning sleep no more at night 
Will wait for me ! They're cold and still. 
Deep in the grave so damp and chill. 



Two little rosy lips so sweet 
No more on earth my own shall meet ; 
No more shall shout with song so free, 
No more shall whisper love to me. 



OUR DARLING. 

Two little hands will clins;- no more 
To window-sill or knob of door, 
Nor toss the toys in childish glee 
To win responsive smiles from me. 

Two little arms of matchless form, 
In fond caress so soft and warm, 
To me in love will no more cling, 
Nor from my neck in frolic swing. 



Two little shoulders snowy white, 
With golden armlet-clasps so bright, 
So often to my bosom pressed. 
Low in the grave are now at rest. 



Two little cherub feet no more 
Will come to meet me as before. 
Nor climb my knee in eager haste 
With welcome kiss and fond embrace. 



Two little ano-el hands now hold 
A crown of life and harp of gold ; 
And, beckoning, bid me haste and come 
To mansions fair in heaven, my home. 



109 



no SAY NOT, "'TIS SIN TO WEEP T 

Two little feet at heaven's gate 
Forevermore impatient wait 
To guide me, when I reach the skies, 
To endless bliss in paradise ! 



^"^ie^-i- 



SAY NOT, "'TIS SIN TO WEEP!" 

My lovely boy is buried now 

Within the grave so cold and deep, 

And while with breaking heart I bow, 
O say not thou, " 'Tis sin to weep !" 

What though his form, as thou hast said. 
Alone is wrapped in death's calm sleep ? 

I know he lives whom we call dead, 
Yet say not thou, "'Tis sin to weep!" 

Angels may guard his precious dust, 
And nightly may their vigils keep ; 

This is my hope, and this my trust ; 
Yet say not thou, " 'Tis sin to weep !" 



SAV NOT, "'TIS SIN TO WEEP T m 

When Jesus wept at Lazarus' grave, 

And waked him from his long death sleep ; 

Of all who saw His power to save, 

None could have thought it sin to weep ! 

Should you, like me, once mourn the dead, 
Should death away your treasures sweep. 

You then most bitter tears will shed. 
You will not say, " 'Tis sin to weep !" 

When from my earthly toils I rest 

Where kindred souls with rapture meet. 

Then all my sighs shall be repressed ; 
Till then, say not, " 'Tis sin to weep !" 

When in these arms I clasp my child, 
My yearning heart with joy shall leap ; 

Then you may say, " Be reconciled, 
Restrain thy tears, 'tis sin to weep !" 




STANDING IN THE DOOR-WAY. 



" Sweet Jennie," as she was familiarly called, to comfort her par- 
ents who stood weeping by her bedside when she was dying, threw 
her arms around her mother's neck, and gave expression to the touch- 
ing sentiment indicated in the following stanzas. 



Silently, sweetly our darling sleeps, 
Like the many in slumber around 
So profound ; 
Softly, tenderly the ivy creeps, 

Weaving its wreath, that the little mound 
May be crowned. 

Yes, she kissed us good-by with a smile. 
And then seemed all ready to go ; 
And I know 
Only the beautiful form, awhile 

Under the turf and under the snow. 
Rests below. 



STANDING IN THE DOOR -WAY. 

" Papa and mamma, I'm going home 
To the glorious home in the sky 
By and by, 
But I'll stand in the door till you come ; 
Then with joy to your arms I shall fly. 
Let me die !" 



Thus she lovingly whispered ; and then, 
Clasping her little white hands so fair 
In prayer, 
Breathed out her life with the whispered "Amen." 
And we said, as we smoothed back her hair, 
" She is there !" 



113 






A GIFT FOR THE KING. 

To beautify the palace of their king, 

To cull sweet flowers one day the angels came ; 
Should they the worthless and unfragrant bring? 

To wither should the fairest here remain ? 

While far away your garden they descried, 
And saw the choicest of the opening flowers ; 

With trembling hands and smiles of holy pride 
They bore your treasure to celestial bowers. 

In days to come, when budding plants you see, 
As faint you tread your rugged path along, 

At each sad step you will reminded be 
Of the unfolding bud of promise gone. 

Rare bud of promise ! To its memory cling. 

All blossoms here must surely fade away; 
Beyond the dismal shades and blight of sin 

This bud more fair shall grow in endless day. 

114 



THERE IS NO DEATH. ijr 



Then cease to weep, nor losses longer mourn, 
The withered stem but rests beneath the sod 

Your bud of hope, to Christ by angels borne, 
Shall bloom forever by the throne of God. 



THERE IS NO DEATH. 

There is no death ! The setting sun 

Sinks low behind the western hills,. 
While others see his race beeun, 

And other hearts his presence thrills. 
We often grieve in deep'ning gloom, 

And fain would check approaching night ; 
Beyond what seems a mocking tomb 

The earth is crowned with radiance bright. 

There is no death ! The morning star, 
Bright herald of the coming day, 

Sweeps o'er our sky, is seen afar, 
And fadeth from our sight away. 



Il6 THERE IS NO DEATH. 

And yet in other skies doth shine, 

Nor pale 'midst shadows deep and grim, 

Its wondrous beauty so divine, 

No mist or clouds may there bedim. 

There is no death ! The little flower 

That fragrance on the air distils, 
That fades and withers in an hour, 

A higher destiny fulfils. 
Though every leaf in dust ma)^ lie. 

The sport of winds and wintry storms. 
It helps to build and beautify 

The loveliest of all earthly forms. 

There is no death ! Our loved ones leave 

Naught but their robes beneath the clod 
Then dry thy tears and cease to grieve. 

They have a dwelling-place with God ! 
Their work of life was quickly done, 

And they are now supremely blest, 
Our toilsome race will soon be run, 

And we may share their blissful rest. 



YOUR ONLY ONE. 

And she is dead ! Your only one, 
The dearly loved ; life just begun ; 
Fond hopes which had with her their birth 
Lie buried in the cold, cold earth. 

Aye, called in all her youthful bloom, 
Your home is wrapped in deepest gloom ; 
Its light is gone, and every room 
Seems but a silent, dreary tomb. 

No more shall o'er your shoulders fall 
The dear one's shadow on the wall, 
As often at the twilight gray 
She came to charm your pain away. 

Then leaning on the old arm-chair, 

Deftly her fingers soft and fair, 

In love unfeigned, with tenderest care 

And gentlest touch swept through your hair. 

117 



II 



YOUR ONLY ONE. 



Those hands so chill and pulseless now 
No more will soothe your aching brow, 
No more outstretched with choice bouquet 
Will greet you at the close of day. 



The work of life was early done, 
The Saviour sought, and title won 
To all the wealth beyond the skies, 
To mansions blest in paradise. 



All that was pure and best within 
Sharp protest urged against each sin ; 
And thus the daily pledge was given 
Of fitness for the rest of heaven. 



How oft she mourned with bitter tears 
Unlikeness to her Lord. For years 
She grieved o'er each infirmity, 
Not that she feared eternity ! 



But grieved that while the Saviour died. 
Was mocked, reviled, and crucified. 
She found so much of ill within, 
And cause to mourn defects of sin. 



YOUR ONLY ONE. 



119 



Nor worth nor virtue could she feign, 
Each imperfection gave her pain ; 
From each she daily sought release, 
Now she has rest and perfect peace. 



Assured that sin was all forgiven, 
Assured of ceaseless joy in heaven, 
While fading slowly day by day, 
How could she longer wish to stay ? 



She longed to meet — 'tis no surprise- 
The loved ones waiting in the skies ; 
Was eager for the time to come, 
To say farewell and hasten home ! 



With transport there we soon shall meet, 
And bend with joy at Jesus' feet, 
While with the ransomed and the blest 
We'll share the bliss of endless rest ! 



THE TRANSPLANTED FLOWER. 

Shall faith and hope, once firm and strong, 
Like withered flowers with fragrance gone, 
The Master's sovereign right disown 
To reap the harvest He hath sown ; 
His right, to whom all things belong. 
To choose and gather when and where 
And what He will ? And will you dare 
To murmur, though He take the fair, 
And change to dirge the gladsome song ? 

From Christ, the Lord, would you withhold 
Aught that He may in love demand ? 
Transplanted in the better land, 
Protected by His tireless hand, 
No more exposed to winter's cold, 
This flower shall never withered lie 
Nor fragrance lose ; but bloom on hisfh, 
And 'neath a changeless, cloudless sky 
Its wondrous beauty shall unfold. 



PJ^ESS ON. 

In heaven no blossom ever dies, 
And there, more fair than s^ems of o-old, 
This broken vase again shall hold 
The beauteous plant of fairest mould! 
Though now in dust it crumbling lies, 
Yet from the dust it shall arise 
Resplendent in immortal guise ! 
Then, mourner, shall thy glad surprise 
Repay each pang and sacrifice. 



121 



PRESS ON. 

" Press on !" O mother, dear. 
How sweet those words, " Press on ;" 
When father drew to death so near. 
And angel voices seemed to hear. 
He said, your troubled heart to cheer, 
" Press on, dear wife, press on !" 

" Press on !" Thouorh left alone, 
You'll meet us soon, press on. 
He said that I, his loved and own. 



122 



FJ?ESS ON. 



Would join him ere much older grown ; 
" A kiss, good-by ; when I am gone 
Weep not for me ; press on." 



Press on, though loved ones sleep 

Low in the grave, press on. 

Though howling blasts above them sweep, 

Yet Christ doth all your treasures keep ; 

Willows but shade, vines only creep 

O'er loving forms, press on. 



Press on. Death's cruel hand 

Detains them not, press on. 

He only snapped the slender band 

Of mortal robes ! The better land 

Is now their home. Behold ! they stand 

And wait for you, press on. 



Press on, with trustful heart 
And fervent prayer, press on. 
Though every earthly joy depart, 
And bitter tears unbidden start, 
The sting of every poisoned dart 
Shall be removed ! Press on. 



/"Ji^SS ON. 

Press on, nor faint nor fear, 

But hopefully press on ; 

Sunshine or storm, still persevere, 

Though tempests rage thy skies shall clear. 

Press on, press on with right good cheer. 

Thy home is near, press on. 

Press on with tireless feet. 

With eager steps press on ; 

Loved ones above you soon will meet 

And share with them in bliss complete, 

In heavenly rest supremely sweet ; 

In faith and hope press on. 



123 






SAD MEMENTOS. 

Bereaved and forlorn, in sadness you mourn, 
Your loved and first-born from you now is borne. 
Heart-broken and lone ! The world can restore 
The joy you have known to earth nevermore ! 
When daily around 

The table you meet, 
There's no pleasant sound 

Of pattering feet ; 
No eager voice heard, 

There's a vacant seat, 
You speak not a word, 
Nor name dare repeat. 
You turn to his chair with hearts wild with woe, 
The child is not there, your griefs overflow ! 
And daily you find the choice little toys 
Which sadly remind of departed joys. 
A marble, or string 

From the tiny shoe. 
The ball he would fling 
In frolic to you ; 
124 



SAD MEMENTOS. 



125 



The scarf and the hat 

Which hang in the hall, 
And many things that 
His mem'ry recall : 
These fondly were loved ; sad mementos are they, 
And such they have proved ! And yet, can you 

say 
You wish them away? Those treasures you fain 
Would fondle each day, though each gives you pain. 
How silent the place ! 

How often you'll miss 
The sadly sweet face 

And the good-night kiss ; 
And in coming years 

Your pillow, I ween, 
Will be wet with tears 
As of him you dream. 
Submissively bow, though gone from your side, 
His memory is now a shield and a guide. 
All hours of the past, all thoughts of his love 
Are yours, till at last you meet him above. 
When seeking repose 

And slumber at night. 
It may be, — (who knows ?) 
Like angels most bright, 
On errands to bless, 

He with them may come 



126 SAD MEMENTOS. 

To soothe thy distress 
And hasten thee home. 
If he is not near, your Saviour is nigh, 
He counts ev'ry tear. He hears ev'ry sigh; 
He with you abides. He robs the cold tomb, 
Which the casket hides, of its chihing gloom. 
To dwell with the blest 
And orlorified thronor, 
In mansions of rest 

And undying song ; 
Where sin is not found 

And none shall know pain. 
Where true joys abound. 
You'll soon meet again ! 
When you shall draw near to the heav'nly gate 
Your child shall appear. You'll not have to wait 
For his coming long. O'er streets of pure gold. 
With harp and with song, with raptures untold, 
And clasping your hand. 

He sweetly will say, 
To this blissful land 

I was summoned away ! 
From sorrow beguiled, 
In trust kiss the rod, 
And haste to thy child, 
Thy home and thy God ! 



WHAT HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 

" He might have been." Ah ! well you may 
Weep in your loneliness to-day. 

" He might have been" — the lovely boy — 
Through all life's pilgrimage your joy ; 

Making your pathway ever bright, 

Of home the g-rowino- charm and lieht. 

Prophetic pen cannot express 
A tithe of promised loveliness. 

So beautiful, so pure and fair, 
Translated now, no griefs to bear. 

In company with Seraphim, 

Naught can his prospects ever dim. 

127 



128 WHAT HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 

We know not what he mieht have been 
If saved from the embrace of sin : 



Perhaps a soldier true and brave, 
Our country's heritage to save ; 

Or statesman, noble, wise, and strong, 
And chief in war the nation's song. 

Perhaps a prince or president, 

With this you would have been content. 

Or, if redeemed, a child of God, 
Called to unfold his precious word ; 

To urge the wandering Christ to seek, 
To help the halting, aid the weak. 

A preacher, eloquent and blest, 
To point the way to endless rest ; 

Endowed by grace and Chrisdike art, 
To soothe and heal the broken heart. 



WHAT HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 

He might have been beset with snares, 
Oppressed and overwhelmed with cares ; 



Or wandered forth for scores of years, 
In want and woe, in grief and tears. 



He might have been misled in youth. 
And steeled his heart against the truth. 

He might have filled a felon's cell, 
Or drunkard's grave, we cannot tell ! 

Or filled the land with direst woe ; 
We never in this life shall know. 



Whate'er your darling might have been, 
He is not wrecked and cursed by sin ! 

From care, and pain, and doubtful strife 
Death was the door to endless life ! 



129 



WHAT I SHALL SEE. 

When to the future world of bliss, 
With angel guides I pass from this, 
From cares and toils forever free, 
What matchless wonders I shall see ! 
Enraptured I shall with them rise. 
And wing my way through starry skies, 
Until I joyously with them 
Shall reach the New Jerusalem ! 

What joy shall my glad spirit sway, 

While I its glories shall survey. 

And gaze upon its jasper walls. 

O'er which divine effulo-ence falls ! 

And sweeping through the pearly gates. 

Where each exultant watcher waits. 

My willing soul they first shall bring 

To see the palace of my king ! 
130 



WHAT I SHALL SEE. 

The promised crowns and harps of gold, 
And glistening- robes I shall behold, 
With all the heav'nly mansions fair 
Prepared for those made welcome there. 
My eager eyes with joy shall see 
The dwelling-place prepared for me, 
And every gift divine shall prove 
The wealth of Jesus' changeless love. 

The "Tree of Life," the coundess towers, 
The fairest fruits and fadeless flowers, 
On all that aught of bliss supplies, 
I there shall feast my longing eyes. 
On kindred spirits I shall gaze 
As they shall swell their songs of praise. 
And, resdng 'neath the temple's dome. 
Shall hear them chant my welcome home ! 



i^i 




WEEPING AND WAITING. 

Thou art weeping, moaning, weeping, 
Bruised and crushed, in grief you lie ; 

But thy loved ones God is keeping, 
Thou shalt see them by and by. 

They are sleeping, calmly sleeping 
The last sleep so deep profound, 

While the angels watch are keeping 
O'er their dust low in the eround. 



Thou art dreaming, often dreaming. 
Blest the visions could they stay ; 

Bright from heavenly portals gleaming, 
Vanishing with opening day. 

They are seeming, often seeming 

Near thee through the lonely night ; 

And their eyes seem ever beaming 
With the old familiar light. 



WEEPING AND WAITING. 

Thou art waiting:, orrievinof waitine, 
Praying that thine hour may come ; 

Pain and death thy friends translating, 
Thou shalt find with them a home. 



They are bending, ever bending 
Round the throne in heaven above. 

Yet to earth are often sending 
Glances of unchanging love. 

Sleeping, dreaming, waiting, waking, 
Thy fond heart is heavy sore, 

But the clouds shall soon be breaking, 
Sorrow's night will soon be o'er. 

Wait in hope the day's bright dawning, 

Wipe away the bitter tears. 
Soon shall come the glorious morning, 

Heaven's bright day of endless years 



133 



• • 



THE BURIAL. 

Passing through the high-arched gateway, 
O'er which choicest ivies clambered, 
Midst the silver-tipped brown mosses 
Clinging to the rough-hewn granite, 
Clinging with their countless tendrils, 
In their robes of ripened glory ; 
Trembling o'er each saci procession 
In their sympathetic sorrow, 
Blushing as in conscious beauty ; 
Some in softest tints of autumn, 
Some in scarlet, half transparent, 
Shaded with a tinge of purple ; 
Some in deepest, loveliest crimson. 
Drooping down in rich profusion ; 
And while gazed upon in sadness, 
As we climbed the western hillside. 
Just before the cloudless sunset. 
Seemed a rising cloud uplifted 
O'er a dazzling, golden door-way 
In the strangely clear horizon ; 
Seemed the very gate Elysian, 
134 




In a rocky dell we halted." 



Page 135. 



THE BURIAL. 135 

Bursting with its matchless splendors ; 
While a myriad smiling sunbeams 
Seemed with ceaseless rapture flying 
Every pathway to illumine, 
Every mourner's heart to gladden, 
Pointing each the way to heaven ! 

Passing slowly through the gateway, 

Onward o'er a sighing brooklet, 

'Midst the broad-armed weeping willows, 

To the charming forest border, 

In a rocky dell we halted. 

Here in silence were reposing 

Forms of dearest earthly kindred 

In their clay-cold beds so, lonely : 

Here bright hopes had long been buried. 

And the modest flowers above them 

By our grief had oft been watered. 

Leanine on the cold white head-stone, 

By our falling tears half-blinded., 

We scarce saw the long procession 

Winding silently and slowly 

Round the open grave beside us ; 

Till the hearse had left its burden, 

And pale mourners gathered by it ; 

Till a piercing wail of anguish 

Thrilled, and left us faint and trembling! 



i:»5 ^-^-^ BURIAL, 

While the solemn dirge was chanted, 
We with reverent steps approaching, 
Heard the man of God addressing, 
In a voice pathetic, tender, 
Husky with unfeigned emotion, 
The disconsolate bereaved ones : 

" Cease, O friends, your lamentation ! 

Death robs not of hope and heaven ; 

Trust ye in the Lord Jehovah ! 

Trust Him, though in death's dark shadow. 

Though with heart-strings torn and bleeding 

O'er the grave you now are weeping : 

Though your feet, benumbed and weary 

With life's long and anxious journey, 

Touch the dark and turbid waters 

Of the overflowing Jordan ; 

Aye, though overwhelming terrors 

Threaten you to seize and torture ! 

Trust ye in the Lord forever ; 

Find in Him a balm for sorrow. 

For all wounds and pangs of parting, 

And for fears of dissolution ! 

When you reach the dreaded river, 

And must cross the angry current. 

Grasp the proffered arm of mercy, 

Aneel of the world's Redeemer ; 



THE BURIAL. 

He will never frown upon her, 
'Tis his joy to show her favor, 
When she guides the ransomed thither ! 
She will bear you safely over, 
Though the howling storm may lower ; 
Bear you to the shore of Canaan, 
To its flowery banks so changeless, 
To the blissful heavenly mansions 
In the wondrous gold-paved city. 
And from hills of fadeless glory 
Angels watch and wait your coming!" 

Thus he spake with self-possession, 

And with voice of calm assurance ; 

Then he paused, and looking downward 

Toward the grave, he sighed and faltered ! 

It was only for a moment ; 

When, with face of deathly whiteness. 

Bending o'er the lowered casket. 

Twice he called, with thrilling accents, 

"Mary! Mary!" But no. answer. 

Echo only, in faint murmurs. 

To the solemn voice responded ! 

Every listener, awed to silence, 

Gazed on him with speechless wonder ; 

Some with blank, unfeigned amazement. 

Some in fear and restless horror ! 



137 



138 



THE BURIAL. 

Rising from his stoopingr posture, 
He, with dignified demeanor, 
Turning to the kneeling mother. 
Slowly, sofdy, hoarsely whispered, 
"Mary is not here, dear mourner. 
She hath passed death's gloomy portals. 
Passed beyond the damps and darkness. 
Leaving here, and leaving only. 
Her rent robes awhile to slumber ; 
Robes of flesh, to dust close kindred. 
Found too frail for her pure spirit. 
Leaving these in safest keeping 
Till the resurrection morning ! 
And that day is surely coming 
When the trump of God resounding 
Through all earth the dead shall waken. 
Ending every grave's dominion ! 

"Let us hush our lamentations. 
While with forms of life about us, 
And with God' the orreat creator, 
We shall lineer in communion. 



" Lofty pines which crown the forest 
In their stateliness and grandeur, 
With the sturdy oaks and maples. 



THE BURIAL. 

With the ferns so frail and tender, 
All seem drooping as though burdened 
With a sense of human sorrow ; 
While the slender twigs and branches 
With suppressed but eager voices 
Ever softly, gently whisper. 
Through the dreariness of autumn, 
Through the barrenness of winter. 
Through the storms so cold and chilling, 
Of the summer sun's returning, 
Of the soft refreshing showers. 
Of the summer's golden harvests, 
And of summer-time rejoicings !" 

Lifting up the wreath beside him. 
And the cross of fresh tube-roses, 
" Here," said he, " we find the emblem 
Both of death and future glory ! 

" Every bud and every blossom 

Has once mourned its winter's burial ! 

Blighting frosts have mocked and chilled it, 

Piercing winds have moaned about it. 

Snows have drifted idly o'er it ; 

Yet from winding-sheets of winter 

In Jehovah's tender keeping 



139 



I40 



THE BURIAL. 

It has found its resurrection ! 
Ripened seed of sweetest flowers, 
Lying in the dust about us, 
In their graves so dark and lonely, 
Soon shall bloom in fragrant beauty ! 
Shall we mourn the withered blossoms, 
As though death had come untimely? 
Morning drives away the darkness. 
Spring crowds back the dreary winter, 
While the waiting clouds and sunbeams 
Weep and smile for very gladness ! 
Flowers bloom for their short summer. 
Buried hopes to life eternal ! 

" Long before the Bethlehem shepherds 
Heard the rapturous songs of angels 
O'er the promised king incarnate, 
And with ' wise men' in the stable 
Bent o'er Him in adoration ; 
'Midst a sobbing royal household, 
In an ancient monarch's chamber. 
Lay his fair and only daughter, 
White and pulseless as the marble, 
Robed and ready for the burial ! 
While the bearers were approaching. 
The bereaved, heart-broken father, 
Weeping in his desolation. 



THE BURIAL. 

Took a bunch of lovely blossoms 
From the lifeless maiden's bosom ; 
Storing them among his jewels, 
In the golden, royal casket. 
With the tale of his heart's anoruish ! 

" Centuries were long in passing, 

Kings arose, and loved ones languished, 

Crowns were lost, and kingdoms vanished ; 

Temples, palaces, and cities. 

By the ploughshare of oppression 

And the spade of retribution 

Covered over, were forgotten. 

And the o-rass grew grreen above them ! 

o <.t> o 

" In the ancient, once-proud city. 
And amidst the crumbling ruins, 
'Midst the rust and wreck of ages. 
Time at last disclosed the casket ; 
And beneath the rines and necklace. 
Folded in a leaf of parchment, 
There was found the trace of flowers ; 
Found a bridal-daisy seed-cell. 
Holding safe its tiny treasure ; 
Which when in the sunlight planted. 
Warmed and watered, swelled and sprouted. 
And in beauty soon was blooming ! 



141 



142 



THE BURIAL. 

Daisies find their resurrection, 

Our poor yearning hearts to gladden ! 

Shall not higher types of beauty 

Rise to life and incorruption ? 

Shall not they who wear God's image, 

The joint-heirs of His anointed, 

Rise to elorious life immortal. 

At the shout of the archangel. 

Though with dust their forms may mingle? 

"The last trumpet shall awaken 
Every silent sleeper round us ; 
Wake to shame, or life eternal. 
To contempt, or changeless glory ! 
Rapturous then shall be our greetings 
With the friends who sleep in Jesus !" 

Then, amidst the deepening shadows 
Of the fading evening twilight, 
He pronounced the benediction ! 



IN MEMORIAM. 



HENRY C. FISH, D.D. 



With waning strength the conqueror lay, 

Death's pallor his fair face o'erspread, 
While friends beloved, in dire dismay 

And trembling awe, stood round his bed. 
" Weep not," he said, " nor to me cling ; 

When I am gone, o'er my remains 
Let kindred spirits paeans sing. 

But chant o'er me no mournful strains." 

Just then there came from halls below 

A deep, suppressed, and broken sigh, 
A faint and smothered sob of woe : 

" Let them come up before I die ! 
Their words of cheer I oft recall. 

Their presence will assuage my pains ; 
And let them sing? Aye, one and all. 

But let them sing no mournful strains." 

143 



144 



JN MEM OR /AM. 

Before him passed in sad review 

Three-score of vet'rans, true and tried, 
For the last greeting and adieu 

From him who long had been their pride. 
"Ah! who shall lead us now," they cried, 

" In anxious march and grand campaigns ?" 
"The king!" his trembling lips replied, 

" His cohorts chant no doleful strains. 

" In all your conquests He will guide, 

His arm made bare, your faith will see, 
For every need He will provide ; 

To win, trust Him ! You need not me. 
To Him each victor's crown belongs, 

My grateful heart all worth disclaims ; 
Praise Him in noblest, ceaseless songs. 

But sine o'er me no mournful strains. 

•' For me to live or die is one ; 

To serve my Lord is highest bliss, 
My toil for Him was heaven begun. 

In loyal trust His feet I'd kiss. 
'To live is Christ, to die is gain!' 

One wish not His my soul disdains ; 
From every sign of grief refrain, 

And sine o'er me no mournful strains. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

"And now farewell! A last farewell! 

I hear the chariot of my king ; 
Sing songs that shall my rapture tell, 

And only songs of triumph sing. 
The sweetest harmonies employ, 

Let friends all join the grand refrains, 
And if in tears, with tears of joy, 

But let them sing no mournful strains." 

:Js ^ :;•: ^' H> ♦ ^ H 

Rest thee, dear brother, with the blest. 

Long years for fruitful toil were given, 
And many sheaves thy zeal attest, 

Thy harvest feast is found in heaven. 
Sowing and reaping all are done. 

Eternal bliss for thee remains ; 
We'll sing of all thy victories won, 

But sing o'er thee no mournful strains. 



145 



9^ ymP-3m^m^ 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 

THE QUESTION. 

"When we hear the music ringing 

In the bright celestial dome, 
When sweet angels' voices singing 

Gladly bid us welcome home 
To the land of ancient story, 

Where the spirit knows no care, 
In that land of life and glory. 

Shall we know each other there ? 

" When the holy angels meet us 

As we go to join their band, 
Shall we know the friends that greet us 

In that glorious spirit-land ? 
Shall we see the same eyes shining 

On us as in days of yore ? 
Shall we feel the dear arms twining 

Fondly round us as before ?" 

The dead ! The dear and tenderly beloved, 
With whom were jinked the fondest of our thoughts, 
With whom were joined all dearest in our lives, 
With whom were bound the brightest earthly hopes ; 
146 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



147 



Whose eyes of earnest, melting tenderness 

So often thrilled, and warmed, and woke response 

From . hearts now breaking with their anguish sore ; 

Whose voices, sweeter far than harp or lyre, 

Though touched by angel fingers skilled and fair. 

Soothed us in sadness, and assuaged our grief; 

Whose ears, once quick to catch our every sigh. 

No more will hear our heavy sobs of woe ; 

Whose hands, with gladness once outstretched to bless, 

Are now so cold, and folded on their breast ; 

Whose love, so. tireless, trustful, strong, and pure. 

Failed not in life to forecast our desires ; 

Whose presence was a benediction sweet. 

And joy which our weak tongues can ne'er portray ; 

Are they yet ours as when they dwelt below. 

And shall we know and love them still in heaven ? 

The dear departed ! Friends who yet must live 

In memory, cherished with the tenderest care, 

The thoughts of whom none would exchange for all 

The mines of wealth conceived by mortal man. 

Our dearest friends, whose lives were bound with ours 

By ties so strong, that with their last farewell 

We seemed estranged from all we prized in life ; 

Shall their farewell, that sent a deathly chill 

Through all our frames, and sounded in our ears 

When they were gone, the same as when we bent 



148 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



With tears and aching hearts to catch the last 
Soft whisper from their pale and trembling lips ; 
Shall their farewell, so plaintive, sad, and sweet, 
Be echoed back hy every wave they meet 
Until they reach the far-off blissful shore ? 
Shall naught but farewells reach us evermore ? 



THE CRAVING. 

Death like a river, dark, and deep, and cold, 
And veiled with rising spray from angry waves, — 
Death parts us now, and from the other side 
We hear no voice nor sound ; it is too wide 
For us to catch a glimpse of those w^e mourn ; 
But with their voyage do they forget the loved. 
The weepers whom they grieved to leave behind ? 

Death parts us now ! But with exchange of worlds 

Can it dissolve all ties that bind us here ? 

The dying clasp our hands, — the dying whom 

We never can forget nor cease to love ; 

They hope to meet us by the pearly gates, 

And with us walk the shining, gold-paved streets. 

And wander underneath the trees of life ; 

Or lino-er 'midst the fracjrant, fadeless flowers, 

With angels in the paradise of God. 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. j^n 

The mother dries her tears because she hopes 
To meet again in heaven the child she loves. 
The mourning father checks the rising sob, 
And forces back the struQrorlinor wail of woe, 
Assured that in immortal dress he yet 
Shall hold in fond embrace the dying child 
O'er whom he bends with wildly beating heart. 
Shall all these hopes be vain ? 

Shall the young wife 
Bereaved, at once despair and crush desire 
To meet with him who shared her earthly joy ? 
Must all the purest instincts of her soul, 
By force of will, be smothered and suppressed, 
And all her cherished yearnings be forgot 
Or buried with the form of her beloved ? 
Shall lovino- sister, child, or friend eo throuo-h 

O ' ^ <z> o 

The streets, through all the mansions fair in heaven. 
Or wander up and down the crystal streams. 
Through forests, or through bright Elysian fields. 
In eager, fruitless search for kindred dear ? 
Shall friends bereaved ne'er cease to cherish thoughts 
Of parting pangs, and never cease to mourn ? 
Shall we not know the loved with whom we toiled, 
With whom we suffered in this vale of tears. 
With whom we often knelt in earnest prayer. 
With whom we often joined in songs of praise. 
With whom we often wept at new-made graves. 



I-O RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 

And who with us, in all our social and 
Domestic joys and griefs, were ever one ? 
Migrating birds, through nights both dark and chill, 
By instinct led fly to the northern zone, 
Nor fail to find the looked-for summer there. 
Shall not the soul's instinctive yearnings find 
Their own, their blessed correllates, on hia-h ? 
The question lingers on ten thousand lips ; 
All who have poured out tears with aching hearts 
O'er graves of perished hopes await reply ! 
'Tis craved by noblest instincts of the soul, 
By holiest sympathies of hearts renewed. 
By highest aspirations heaven has wrought. 
Before the word divine we humbly bend, 
And wait with reverence the blest return. 
Of all that heaven reveals we rest assured ; 
Else heaven respond, our plea is urged in vain. 

Of all who visions saw in ancient times, 

To whom were happy revelations given. 

None comes more quickly at our own behest. 

To bid us drink his brimming cup of trust ; 

None breathes a sweeter story in our ears. 

In accents laden with more sweet perfume, 

Than he who, with his head once pillowed on 

The cold, rough stones, saw angels come and go 

On ladder bright which reached from earth to heaven. 



T5T 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 

Though by the ancient superstition strange 
Faith seem to wear the shade of fancy wild 
In placing paradise beneath our feet ; 
In knowledge of the future life, and of 
All things pertaining to the heavenly state, 
The worthy patriarch Jacob was well versed. 
Though doubters may proclaim him uninspired. 



When the fair Joseph from the dark, damp pit. 

In which by cruel hands and jealous hate 

He had been cast and left to starve and die ; 

When he, in selfish greed, to passing band 

Of Midianitish merchantmen was sold. 

And lifted out and led away a slave ; 

When to deceive the dear old man the sons, 

Grown hard by frequent thoughts of cherished sin, 

In utter recklessness of what they did, 

The dear lad's coat of many colors rent. 

And dipped and stained it in the young kid's blood, 

And brought it home, in feigned surprise and grief, 

As though it had been torn by some wild beast, 

And laid it at the trembling father's feet ; 

In anguish sore he bowed himself and wept. 

Then rent his clothes, put sackcloth on his loins, 

And mourned for many days his favorite's death. 

Refusing to be comforted, and said, 

" I will go down to Sheol to my son ! 



152 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



Down to the disembodied spirit's home, 

Nor cease to mourn till I shall meet him there." 



To me the touching words are prophecy, 

And sure of rich fulfilment, too ! Aye, come, 

And arm in arm we'll walk the forests through, 

While with the winds each branch and twig may join 

In trembling wail o'er autumn's sad decease ; 

O'er earth when lying pulseless, still, and cold. 

And wrapped in winter's heavy winding-sheet. 

Do not the swelling buds of every bough, 

Of every tree, prophetic prove of life. 

And of the opening fragrant flowers of spring ? 

Our hopes are buds of promise, no less sure 

To find their own sweet summer-time to bloom ! 



THE ASSURANCE. 

Whom next, of all the witnesses inspired. 
Shall we first call to tell us what we crave ? 
Whom summon that shall come with song so sweet 
As Israel's noble bard and shepherd king ; 
Who oft with harp and song assuaged the grief 
Or soothed the passions of the cruel Saul ? 
Or charmed the evil spirit of unrest 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 153 

By which the haughty monarch was possessed? 
He who made conquest of a heart so hard, 
Can touch some chord to thrill our souls with joy, 
Can strike some strain to chase away our fears, 
Some gentle strain to dry the mourner's tears. 

No father's heart can beat with warmer love, 

No beckoning future wake more strong desire, 

Than when King David knelt in grief and tears, 

And gazed so long and wistfully upon 

The lovely infant image of himself 

Which lay upon the royal palace couch. 

No hands more gently eager ever moved 

In thoughtful ministry or fond caress ; 

No arms e'er pressed to palpitating breast 

A lovelier form or fairer brow ; 

No weeping eyes e'er rained more bitter tears. 

No soul e'er bore more painful load than when, 

With trembling lips and heavy sigh and moan, 

He turned away and sought the Lord alone. 

Through all the weary night he wept and prayed 

That the dear boy, Bathsheba's child, might live. 

For seven long and anxious days his eager hope 

Fought bravely with his fears. 

He dared not ask 
A question, lest that cherished hope should die : 
But fastings, prayers, and tears seemed all in vain. 



154 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



His whispering servants to each other said, — 
"King David will go mad! He takes no bread! 
He lies upon the ground within the court ! 
His plaintive prayers and piteous moan 
Would well-nigh melt a heart of stone. 
The little heart has ceased to beat ; the pale, 
Cold hands are folded on its lifeless breast; 
But if we frankly say, ' The child is dead,' 
The nation soon will mourn the kino-'s decease." 



\"5 



Lo, their surprise ! He rises from the; cold 

Damp earth, bathes his flushed face, and in fresh robes 

Is bending soon in worship in God's house ! 

No fresh outburst of grief, but songs of praise 

Unloose his tongue and linger on his lips. 

They ask, " Why does the king now cease to weep ?" 

Sweet the response, " To my embrace the child 

Shall not return, but I shall go to him !" 

As though he said, " Ere long, I am assured. 

The darling boy, whose form is now so chill. 

Shall be enfolded to this aching breast ; 

And those fair lips, now pale and cold as stone, 

Shall glow with warmth again and press my own." 

The sweet assurance of the sorrowing king. 

Whose faith had root in fellowship with God, 

Whose hymns of prayer and praise have blest the world, 

Becomes our own, and hence our joy and song! 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. i^^ 

And now my own o'erburdened heart must speak, 

Although my frownuig- muse sit silent by. 

I shall have greeting from my own dear boy, 

My own sweet Harold, o'er whose precious dust 

The watchers wait the resurrecdon morn ; 

I shall behold him as in days of old. 

And ere I journey far within the gates ! 

Yes, I shall know him, and though far more fair 

Than when he left me weeping in my grief, 

And with celesdal convoy passed away. 

His eyes, so beautiful in life, shall flash 

The joy and welcome which his lips will speak ; 

My arms shall fold him to my longing heart. 

And angels all will smile to see our joy ! 

My honored, praying father I shall see, 

He'll walk the gold-paved streets and look for mc ; 

And all the sons and daughters of his love 

He will be sure to recognize above. 

Should he be left to wander there alone. 

To pass his friends unrecognized, unknown. 

His heart for interchange of thought would ache. 

Nor harps nor songs response of joy could wake. 

I shall have greeting from my mother dear, 

Whose voice of love I ever seem to hear ; 

Who watched my infant slumbers long ago. 

And blessed me with her care and soothed my woe ; 



'56 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



Who oft with words of cheer dispelled my fears, 

And pressed me to her heart and dried my tears ; 

Who prayed for me so oft and tenderly 

Through all the changing- years ! Yes, prayed for me 

As mothers only can for thoughtless boys, 

While doubling o'er and o'er my childhood's joys. 

And urged my halting feet from day to day 

With smile and song along the heavenly way. 

I shall have greeting from my friends beloved. 
Who have so oft in ways unlooked for proved 
Their constancy and worth. Their names, I trust. 
Shall all be found enrolled among the just. 
God bless and shield them all amid the strife, 
'Midst all the conflicts of this mortal life : 
Their kindly words have oft my bosom thrilled, 
With worthy deeds their record here is filled. 
Some long since gone have passed the pearly gate : 
With them I soon shall there for others wait. 



THE PLEDGE. 

Next, let us turn to our transfigured Lord, 
Amidst His chosen guests from earth and heaven, 
And we shall find a pledge of what we crave, 
For pledge of recognition God has given. 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



157 



Elias stood with Moses on the mount, 
And talked with Jesus of His dying pangs 
Upon the cross ; foreseen, endured, to make 
Atonement for a lost and ruined world. 



The first, translated without tasting death, 
Appeared all-glorious and almost divine, 
As heavenly halo broke o'er all the scene 
And clothed our Lord with radiance like the sun. 



The disembodied Moses — not less fair 

In form or feature in his spirit guise. 

Because divested of his fleshly robes — 

In rapture with the Lamb of God communed ; 

And each by Peter, James, and John was known, 

As when we orreet our dearest kindred here. 



Did those fair messengers from heaven there meet 

As strangers to each other, knowing less 

Than those who gazed on them with mortal eyes. 

With trembling awe, and fascination strange ? 

Can heirs of God and citizens of heaven. 

Who once walked arm in arm with us on earth, 

Know less than when here dazed and dwarfed by sin ? 

If happy recognition here could be 



158 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



With interview so brief, with sin-dimmed sight, 
What may we hope for when we pass the gates ? 
What may we hope for when the last dark veil 
Of earthly imperfections and of sin 
Is lifted from our wondering eyes in heaven ? 



THE ARGUMENT. 



"And I say unto you, That many shall come from the east and west, 
and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom 
of heaven." — Matt. viii. ii. 



So Jesus lifts the veil and gives a glimpse 

Of gathered guests beyond the pearly gates. 

Who, welcomed there with all the ransomed throng, 

Sit down with kindred dear and share the feast, 

The royal entertainment which He gives, 

And share the fellowship of all the saints. 

So He portrays reunion blest in heaven : 

The father, son, and grandsire all are there, 

In blissful recognition none can doubt ; 

In rapturous interchange of thought 

With friends once known and loved so well on earth ; 

While at the feast each one with joy recalls. 

And tries to paint the happy, hallowed scenes. 



RECOGNITION IN HE A VEN. j eg 

The cherished memories of mortal Hfe. 

Shall Abra'm there an introduction need 

To Isaac, child of prophecy and prayer, 

Who once upon the altar and the wood 

By faith a trembling sacrifice was bound, 

And waited the descending arm and knife 

Which sympathizing angels caught and held, 

While from the skies the welcome voice was heard ? 

Shall any there an introduction need ? 

Some kindly soul will doubtless there be found 

Who will not shrink the service to perform ; 

And friends and angels there I hope to see 

Who will be glad to do no less for me ! 

When at the marriage supper of the Lamb 
We shall commune with old familiar friends, 
While with them we sit down around our Lord 
In flow of soul unchecked and unrestrained ; 
The wondrous thrill of recosfnition there 
Will far exceed our fondly cherished hopes. 

Attachments, tender, heaven-born, and true, 
By mutual joys and sorrows here made strong, 
Will not be trampled down and crushed by death ! 
The valued friendships which are kindled here, 
And fed by noble and unselfish deeds. 



l5o RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 

And fanned by sympathies almost divine, 

Can never be extinguished by the dews 

And damps which gather in Hfe's parting hour. 

The love which springs from selfish greed and lust, 

Which nurses passion and all foul desire, 

That joins ambition with a fond caress. 

That feeds and fattens jealousy and vice, 

And spurns the pure, and crucifies the just; 

Such love may die, and rot with inbred sin ! 

Not so the love which joins itself with faith, 

And in Christ's image moulds the soul anew. 

And bends in holy pride and loyal trust 

And ceaseless joy before the Lord, and gives 

To each a moral fitness for the skies. 

Profoundest love for others ever finds 

Its hio-hest source in love and ofrace divine. 

The more we love the more w^e are like God ! 

And" in affinity with Him we find 

The golden key to all the gates of bliss. 

The more we are like Christ the more we crave 

The fellowship of those who are like Him. 



Shall our purest heart's affection 

Soon be quenched, and kindred dear 

Soon forget and be forgotten 
When in heaven we appear? 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. i^j 

Can the love which Christ commanded, 

Love of origin divine, 
Love so strong, so fervent, constant, 

Perish with the dreams of time ? 

Are we not as heirs immortal 
Of the bliss earth cannot know. 

Bound to cherish for each other 
Love unmeasured here below ? 

'Tis the basis of Christ's kingdom, 
'Tis the robe the ransomed wear, 

'Tis the atmosphere of glory, 
'Tis the song of angels there ! 

Jesus prayed with tender fervor. 
Prayed for all who love His name, 

" That they may be one" forever ; 
One in earth, in heaven the same. 

Shall the peculiar traits of hearts renewed, 
The holy sympathies of those made one, 
By drinking at the fount of love divine, 
Be lost when angels come to guide us home ? 
Nay ! Sweet affinities of Christian love. 
They must survive, and make us one above. 



1 62 RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 

List to the theme of one who was inspired 
By what he saw and heard in the third heaven, 
But more inspired to fill our eager ears 
With gladsome thoughts by the indwelling God. 



"For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even 
ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at His coming ? For ye are 
our glory, and joy." — i Thes. ii. 19, 20. 



By blest response to earnest, patient prayer, 
By blest returns for patient toils and tears, 
The faithful ones on whom God's servant smiles 
Have been reclaimed from paths of sin and shame 
And won to Christ, renewed and made His own. 
These are his glory ! These his crown of joy ! 
To these he points in recognition glad 
While standing in the presence of his Lord. 

When down the stream of time at last we glide 
Into the ocean of eternity. 
So broad that swiftest sails no harbor reach. 
And restless waves can never find a shore ; 
When out the stream man drifts upon the sea. 
Shall he forget his past of good and ill ? 
Slip out of self and all self-consciousness, 
And float away in blissful solitude ? 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



163 



Could Paul forget all those who gave him pain, 

Or cease to love all who enhanced his joy ? 

Nay ! None can be oblivious of his past ; 

Else who can know his virtues or his euilt ? 

Else who can feel the curse of conscious sin ? 

Or who shall know how just his own reward 

When crowned at last by our dear Lord in heaven? 

By every grief Paul felt in mortal life, 

By every sacrifice to save the lost ; 

By every peril known on land or sea, 

By every journey, though remote or near ; 

By every persecution suffered here, 

By each recall of pleasure or of woe, 

Is ever yoked the recollection dear 

Of souls redeemed ! By each and all, meanwhile, 

Is personal identity assured ; 

And, knowing self, he can but know the friends 

Who shared with him all cares and toils on earth. 

Who does not yearn for sympathies of friends 

In all his earthly pleasures, great and small, 

As well as when the waves of sorrow break 

And whelm his soul in their dark, chilline flood ? 

When we behold the beautiful in art, 

The towering hills, the lakes, and running streams, 

The noblest works of nature and of God ; 



1 64 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 



Or when we grasp some fresh inspiring thought, 
And our hearts leap and shout with rapture new, 
How do we wish our friends may share the joys ! 
How does their presence double our delight ! 
Shall we not know the names of the redeemed. 
Nor care to know the place of their abode ? 
Shall we as strangers pass our friends in heaven, 
And none but strangers share with us its bliss ? 
Shall welcome from our kindred doubly dear, 
Who made our homes a paradise while here, 
With all our life-long yearnings be denied? 

Think of the cravings of the Christian heart. 
Think of the breath of every saint's desire ; 
Think of the grasp of every mourner's hope. 
Think of the bond of every Christ-like joy ; 
Measure the reach and wealth of Christian love. 
Measure the bliss of fellowship above ; 
Shall our Almighty Lord, who finds no cause 
To mourn unkindness or the least mistake, 
Shall He indulge these feverish desires, 
And bid us nourish all our precious hopes, 
And all our longings for the sweet embrace 
Of loved ones in the paradise of God ? 
Shall He encourage all our heaven-born loves 
And purest sympathies, which know no bound, 
Then coldly crush, or blast, and wither all ? 



RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. 165 

In Jacob mourning for his absent child, 

In David weeping for the boy beloved, 

Yet happy in assurance when bereaved ; 

In Abra'm and his children at the feast, 

In Moses and Elias on the mount. 

In Peter, James, and John, who knew them there ; 

In Paul, who knew the nature of his crown. 

In Him who wept at Lazarus' tomb. 

We find dear friends, who whisper in our ears 

Sweet words of cheer, and bid us not despair, 

But trust for recognition blest in heaven ! 



"Yes, my earth-worn soul rejoices, 

And my weary heart grows light, 
For the thrilling angel voices, 

And the angel faces bright 
That shall welcome us in heaven 

Are the loved of long ago : 
And to them 'tis kindly given 

Thus their mortal friends to know ! 



" O ye weary, sad, and tossed ones. 

Droop not, faint not by the way. 
Ye shall join the loved and just ones 

In that land of perfect day. 
Harp-strings touched by angel fingers 

Murmur in my raptured ear ; 
Evermore their sweet song lingers. 

We shall know each other there!" 



THE FUNERAL. 



Many witnesses to this remarkable coincidence, including the clergy- 
man who officiated on the occasion, are still living. 



It was up among the mountains, 
In a glen of wondrous beauty, 
Known by many as "The Dove's Nest." 
Here we found the Httle cottage. 
Half concealed by climbing woodbine. 
In the loveliest seclusion. 
Lovelier than poet's fancy. 
Fit abode for fabled fairies. 



Roses clambered o'er the windows. 
And above the rustic porches, 
Filling all the air with fragrance ; 
While from terrace walls were drooping 
Honeysuckle and nasturtion. 
Which, with beds of rare verbenas. 



In the smiling garden border. 



1 66 



772^^ FUNERAL. 



167 



All seemed looking up and telling 
How the nest was loved and tended. 



High, and facing to the southward, 
Half the cottage roof o'erhanging, 
Crowned with poplars and white birches. 
Rose a moss-grown ledge of granite, 
Whose pale cheeks the early sunbeams 
Kissed and flushed with radiant gladness. 
To our left, but in the distance, 
Spread a dark and pathless forest, 
With its tower-like spurs of hemlock ; 
To our right, a crystal streamlet 
Long by beetling crags o'ershadowed ; 
While above them, in the background. 
Lofty pines, a fearless sentry, 
Long had braved the storms of winter, 
Long from piercing blasts had sheltered. 

Standing in the open door-way, 

Scenes of rarest charm enthralled us ; 

Scenes like brightest fields Elysian 

In the Oriental vision ! 

In the clear transparent waters 

Of a matchless gem-like lakelet, 

All were mirrored in perfection, 



1 53 THE FUNERAL. 

As in burnished shields of silver; 
Cottage, rocks, and drooping birches, 
Pines, and roses, and gray mosses ! 
Every blossom on the hillside 
Was in form and hue reflected ! 

Far away, the sun was sinking 
Slowly to the dim horizon ; 
Veiled by golden-tinted curtains, 
Fringed with purple and vermilion, 
Looped 'neath banks of silvery vapor, 
To the peaks of snow-capped mountains. 
Wreathed in ever-changing splendors ; 
Prophecy of heavenly glories ! 

Here to this fair type of Eden 

There had come a grim intruder ; 

And the gentle mountain birdling. 

Child of only ten short summers, 

Chilled and paled by death's stern whisper, 

Wrapped in her last dreamless slumber. 

Waited now the solemn service. 

The last tribute of affection. 

In her hand were choicest rosebuds, 
While with vines and opening flowers 



THE FUNERAL. 

She was crowned and robed for burial. 
Chosen classmates, in their sorrow, 
From the quiet little hamlet 
Far below us in the valley, 
With the sweetest floral offerings, 
Had come up the winding pathway ; 
And were seated with the mourners, 
Waiting the appointed signal 
Of the honored " Mountain Shepherd," 
Ere the favorite hymn they chanted. 

Soon he rose and, slowly, calmly, 
Read the words of inspiration ; 
Read of death, its damps and shadows, 
Of its eloom and threatenino^ terrors ; 
Read of comfort for the weary, 
And for souls in hopeless sorrow ; 
Read the promises most precious 
Of the coming resurrection 
And the blissful heavenly mansions ; 
Read of Christ and life eternal ! 
Then he bowed in supplication. 
And his tender accents mingled 
With the sobs and lamentations 
Of the broken-hearted weepers. 
In their loneliness and anguish ! 
Fervently he made petition 



169 



170 



THE FUNERAL. 

That with sweetest consolation 

Christ would visit the bereaved ones ; 

That the Comforter — the Spirit, 

Whose bright wing once flashed o'er Jordan, 

When an emblematic witness 

He in dove-like form descended 

From the upper heights of glory — 

Would afford to them some token 

That their darling was immortal. 

And with angels now in heaven ! 

Scarcely had the words been uttered 
Ere the sound of rustling pinions 
Every eye and thought arrested ! 
Through the vines and open window 
Came a dove of snowy whiteness. 
Thrice the mourning group encircling 
With slow awe-inspiring motion ; 
Then, with drooping wing, alighted 
On the kneeling suppliant's shoulder, 
Strangely motionless remaining 
Till the touching prayer was ended ; 
Then amidst the cliff's dark shadows, 
Like a flash of light it vanished ! 

Soon with overwhelming wonder 
Every face grew white as marble, 



THE FUNERAL. 

And each lip was awed to silence. 
Rising- for the hymn, they faltered, 
Trembling- in profound amazement. 
Scarcely one short line was chanted 
Ere the airy curtains parted. 
And the dove was slowly circling- 
Round about us and above us ; 
Hovering over the chief sing-er 
As though forms unseen had charmed it. 

It was only for a moment : 

Soon upon his head it rested, 

Gently as the pearly dew-drop 

Falls upon the thirsty meadow ; 

Rested till- the tuneful voices 

Died away in faintest whispers, 

Tranquil as the babe will nestle 

In the fond maternal bosom ! 

Then it gracefully descended, 

Resting on the open casket ; 

And with smothered note of mourning, 

Strangely low, and soft, and thrilling, 

Gazed upon the silent sleeper ! 

Children wept with joy and trembling ; 
Mourners breathlessly looked round them, 
Half assured and half inquiring: 



171 



172 



THE FUNERAL. 

Could it be the longed-for token ? 

One, with quivering accents, whispered, 

It is some strange apparition, 

Or a messenger from heaven ! 

Then long pent up floods of sorrow 

Once more sought and found their freedom, 

Till each breath of air seemed moaning. 

And each falling tear seemed burdened 

With its freight of speechless anguish. 

Yet the mournino- dove still lino-ered 

Till each voice a^ain was silent ; 

Till each tongue once more seemed palsied, 

Till the preacher calmly answered : 

Can the Prince of life eternal 
Banish mercy and compassion, 
And by scenes like this so startling 
Mock when human hearts are breaking? 
He who wept with weeping Mary 
Never can be cold and cruel. 
And can never cease to pity ! 
He who marks the falling sparrow, 
And each mortal grief doth measure, 
Listens, and His love most tender 
Answers to our earnest pleading ; 
Be not faithless, but believing ! 
Cherish no dread superstition, 



THE FUNERAL. 

This is no dire premonition, 
Neither miracle nor vision ; 
Yet to us it is a token, 
Strange coincidence, responsive 
To our yearning heart's petition ! 

Heights there are that none can measure, 

Depths which we can never fathom ; 

Mysteries which oft surprise us, 

Mystery in all about us ; 

Mystery in light and darkness, 

And in every form of beauty ; 

Mystery in this dove's presence, 

But no more than in its being- • 

Mystery in living, dying ! 

Mystery that fairest blossoms 

E'er should be the first to wither, 

And that homes akin to heaven 

Oft are made a desolation ! 

Standing in the twilight border. 
Purposes divine seem often 
Much like silken threads entaneled : 
But Jehovah weaves a fabric 
Broader than the world's horizon, 
And the swiftly flying shuttle 



173 



174 



THE FUNERAL. 

Leaps the chasms of the ages, 

Though both warp and woof are hidden. 

Till we reach the very summit 
Of sublimest heights in glory, 
Mysteries may e'er surround us 
Like these changing mountain shadows. 
Some now linked with joy or sorrow, 
May be solved for us to-morrow ! 



^^ THE END. 




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